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JIOM 



ADAM'S PEAK 



TO 



Elephanta 



SKETCHES IN CEYLON AND INDIA 



Edward Carpenter. 




.ondon: swan SONNENSCHEIN & CO. 
New York: MACMILLAN & CO. 
1892. 






^3>U(o 



Butler & Tanner, 

The Selwood Printing Works, 

Frome, and London. 



' ' • • • • • t 



From AdAM'S PEAK 

TO Elephanta 

SKETCHES IN CEYLON AND INDIA. 



WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

ENGLAND'S IDEAL, and other papers on 
Social Subjects. Crown 8vo, cloth 2s. 6d. ; 
paper wrappers is. 

CHANTS OF LABOUR: A Song Book of 
the People. With a frontispiece and title- 
page designed by Walter Crane. Music 
and Words. Imp. i6mo, cloth 2s. ; paper 
wrappers is. 

CIVILISATION, ITS CAUSE AND 
CURE: and other Essays, Crown 8vo, 
cloth 2s. 6d. 

"In 'England's Ideal' and 'Civilisation' Mr. Car- 
penter sets forth in prose his criticism (unsurpassed at times 
by Ruskin, his master in this field) of the diseases of polite 
society, and his faith as to their meaning and the method 
of their abatement," — Daily Chronicle. 

Swan Sonnenschein «& Co. : London. 



TOWARDS DEMOCRACY. Third Edition, 
1892, with numerous added poems, pp. 367. 
Crown 8vo, cloth 5^. 
"A remarkable work." — Academy. 

T. Fisher Unwin : London. 



^// 



PREFACE 



If asked to write a book about his own country and 
people a man might well give up the task as hopeless — 
yet to do the same about a distant land in which he has 
only spent a few months is a thing which the average 
traveler quite cheerfully undertakes. I suppose this may 
be looked upon as another illustration of the great fact 
that the less one knows of a matter the easier it is to write 
or talk about it. But there is, it is sometimes said, a 
certain merit of their own in first impressions ; and I trust 
that this may appear in the present case. Certainly though 
there are many things that are missed in a first glance 
there are some things that stand out clearer then than 
later. 

In the following pages I have tried to keep as far as 
possible to the relation of things actually seen and heard, 
and not to be betrayed into doubtful generalisations. It 
is so easy in the case of a land like India, which is as large 
as Europe (without Russia) and at least as multifarious 
in its peoples, languages, creeds, customs, and manners, to 
make the serious mistake of supposing that what is true 
of one locality necessarily applies to the whole vast 
demesne, that I must specially warn the reader not only 
against falling into this error himself, but against the 
possibility of my having fallen into it in places. 

As far as actual experience of life in Ceylon and India 
is concerned I have perhaps been fortunate ; not only in 
being introduced (through the kindness of local friends) 
into circles of traditional teaching which are often closed 
against the English, and in so getting to know something 



V 



VI PREFACE 

of the esoteric religious lore of South India; but also in 
obtaining some interesting glimpses behind the scenes of 
the Hindu ceremonial. I have too had the good luck to 
find friends and familiar acquaintances among all classes 
of native society, down almost to the lowest ; and I must 
say that the sectional view I have thus obtained of the 
mass-people in this part of the world has made me feel 
with renewed assurance the essential oneness of humanity 
everywhere, notwithstanding the very marked local and 
superficial differences that undoubtedly exist. 

The spectacle of the social changes now taking place in 
India is one that is full of interest to any one who has 
studied and taken part in the Socialistic movement at 
home ; and the interest of it is likely to increase. For 
though the movement in India is not the same as that at 
home, it forms a curious counterpart to the latter ; and 
being backed by economic changes which will probably 
persist for years to come is not likely to die out very 
soon. 

For the rest the book must rely on the description of 
scenes of nature and of ordinary human life, whose un- 
expected vividness forced me to portray them — though 
to begin with I had no intention of doing so. The 
illustrations are many of them taken from the excellent 
photographs of Messrs. Scowen of Colombo, Messrs. 
Bourn of Bombay, and Messrs. Frith of Reigate. 

Nov. 1892. E. C. 



CONTENTS 



CEYLON, 

CHAPTER I. 

Colombo. 

The Suez Canal— Port Said— Gulf of Suez— The Red Sea- 
Colombo — Its streets and population — Picturesque 
glimpses — Tommy Atkins in a jinrickshaw — The 
Tamils and the Cinghalese — Costume and Character — 
Language and Literature — The British and the Euras- 
ians — Social arrangements and amenities — " Spicy 
gales " — The coco-nut palm — A catamaran . 



CHAPTER IL 

Kandy and Peasant Life. 

Primitive habits of the Cinghalese — "Ajax" arrives from 
England — A peasant-cabin near Kandy — Marriage- 
customs— Devil-dancing — Kalua and Kirrah — Their 
rice-fields and mode of life — The great Buddhist 
temple at Kandy — The tooth-relic — Ancient MSS. 
— A Librarian-priest — The talipot palm — The British 
and the natives — The "oyster" — Nuwara Ellia . 26-39 



CHAPTER III. 

KURUNEGALA. 

Cinghalese views on Politics — Kornegalle — The Elephant- 
rock — The general landscape in Ceylon — Tanks and 



VIU CONTENTS 

PAGES 

irrigatioti — The Paddy tax — Modern Commercial 
policy — Poverty of the people — The village bath — 
Decorum and passivity in manners — The bazaar and 
the shops — My friend the opium-seller — The police- 
man — The gaol and the prisoners — A Tamil official 
and his mode of life— The Bungalow — Mosquitos — 
Vegetable curries — The Hindu priest in the house- 
hold — Native servants, their relation to British masters 
— The pariahs, and our slum-dwellers . . . 40-59 



CHAPTER IV. 

Adam's Peak and the Black River. 

Ascent of Adam's Peak — A night on the summit — The un- 
clad natives endure the cold — Advantage of sun-baths 
— A society for the encouragement of nudity — Moon- 
light view from the summit of the Peak — History of 
the mountain — Sunrise — The shadow on the mist, and 
other phenomena — Adam's foot-print — The pavilion 
on the summit, and the priests — Caliban doing poojah 
— Descent by the pilgrim-track — The great woods — 
Fauna and Flora^Ratnapura, the city of jewels — 
Boat-voyage down the Kaluganga to Kalutara — 
Descent of rapids — Kalua enjoys the voyage — A tea- 
planter at home — Wage-slavery on the tea-plantations — 
The tea-factory — Letters from " Ajax " about the 
coolies 60-85 



CHAPTER V. 

British Law-Courts and Buddhist Temples. 

The courts a great centre of popular interest — A means of 
wreaking personal revenge — The district court— A case 
of burglary — The British ideal of life does not appeal 
to the natives — A Tamil student of philosophy — To 
DambuUa in a bullock-cart — A coterie of Eurasians — 
The cave-temples of Dambulla — A boy-priest and his 
cook — Other Buddhist temples .... 86-97 



CONTENTS IX 

CHAPTER VI. 

Anuradhapura : a Ruined City of the Jungle. 

PAGES 

A night in the "mail-coach" — The present village of 
Anuradhapura — " Pools of water and a habitation for 
the bittern " — The remains of the Brazen Palace — The 
oldest tree in the world — Ruins of enormous ddgobas — 
Specimens of early sculpture — Temples, porticos, stone 
troughs, cisterns, bathing tanks — A fine statue of 
Buddha— The city as it was in the 7th century — Its 
history — View to-day from the Abhayagiria dagoba — 
Moral and sentimental reflections . . . 99-115 

CHAPTER VII. 

A Night-Festival in a Hindu Temple. 

The festival of Taypusam — The temple, the crowd, and 
blowing up of trumpets in the full moon — Image of 
Siva, the raft and the sacred lake — Hymns and 
offerings to the god — Fearful and wonderful music — 
Temper of the crowd, and influences of the ceremonial 
— Interior of Temple — The lingam and the worship of 
sex — The bull Nandi — Great procession of the gods 
round Temple — Remindful of Bacchic processions- - 
The Nautch girls, their dress, and dances — Culmina- 
tion of the show — Revelation of Siva . . . 11 6- 134 



A VISIT TO A GNANI 

CHAPTER Vin. 

A Visit to a Gnani. 

Two schools of esoteric teachers, the Himalayan and South 
Indian — A South-Indian teacher — Three conditions 
for the attainment of divine knowledge or gfidnam — 
The fraternity of Adepts — Yogam the preparation for 
gndnam — The yogis — Story of Tilleinathan Swamy — 
Democratic character of his teaching — Compare stories 
of Christ — Tamil philosophy and popular beliefs con- 
cerning Adepts — The present teacher, his personality 
and habits— "Joy, always joy " .... 137-152 



X CONTENTS 

CHAPTER IX. 

Consciousness without Thought. 

PAGES 

What is the nature of a Gnani's experience ? Answer given 
in modern thought-terms — Slow evolution of a new 
form of consciousness — Many a slip and pause by the 
way — A consciousness without thought — Meaning of 
"Nirwana" — Phenomena of hypnotism — Theory of 
the fourth dimension — The true quality of the soul 
is Space, by which it is present everywhere— Free- 
dom, Equality — The democratic basis of Eastern 
philosophy 153-163 

CHAPTER X. 

Methods of Attainment. 

Physical methods adopted by some of the j^^/i-— Self-mes- 
merism, fasting, severe penance— The Siddhi or miracu- 
lous powers — Mental methods, (i) the Concentration, 
and (2) the Effacement of Thought — Difficulties of (i) 
and (2), but great value for the Western peoples to-day 
— Concentration and Effacement of Thought are cor- 
relative powers — They lead to the discovery of the true 
Self — Moral methods, gentleness, candor, serenity — 
Non-differentiation— The final deliverance — Probable 
difference between Eastern and Western methods of 
attainment — Through the Will, and through Love . 164-182 

CHAPTER XL 

Traditions of the Ancient Wisdom-Religion. 

Difficulty of giving any concise account of Indian teaching 
— Personal rapprochement to the Guru, but alienation 
from the formalities of his doctrine — Mediaeval theories 
of Astronomy and Geology — Philosophy of the Sidd- 
hantic system — The five elements, five forms of 
sensation, etc. — The twenty-six tatwas, and the Self 
which stands apart from them all — Evolution and 
Involution — The five shells which enclose the soul — 
Death and Birth— Crudities of Astrology, Physiology, 
etc. — Double signification of many doctrines — Resem- 



CONTENTS XI 

PAGES 

blance of modern Guru to a Vedic Sage — His criticisms 
of the English and of Enghsh rule — Importance to the 
West of the Indian traditions .... 183-203 



INDIA. 

CHAPTER XIL 

The South Indian Temples. 

Colombo to Tuticorin — The plains of the Carnatic — Thirty 
great Dravidian temples — The temple at Tanjore — 
Colossal monolithic bull — The pagoda, a fine piece 
of work — " It casts no shadow" — Subsidiary temples 
and frescoed arcades — A regiment of lingams — The 
Tanjore palace — The temple at Madura — The 
Choultrie, the Eastern gate, and the Hall of a thousand 
Columns — Crowds in the temple precincts, gloom and 
stillness of the interior — Juggernath cars in the streets 
— The Temple of Chidambaram, a goal of pilgrimage 
and a den of Brahmans — The weird hall of a thousand 
columns, haunted by bats — A cranky Brahman — Gold- 
smiths at work for the Temple — A truculent pilgrim 209-226 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Madras and Calcutta. 

The streets of Madras— Comparison with Ceylon — Imposi- 
tions of drivers, boatmen, hotel managers, etc. — A 
straggling dull city — A centre however of Hindu 
political and literary life — Visit to Adyar and the 
Theosophist headquarters — Blavatsky curios — Scenes 
of native life — The river Hooghly — Calcutta city and 
population — Festival of bathing in the Ganges — A 
Circus — Poverty of the people — Meeting of the 
Dufferin Fund — British philanthropy in India — A 
native school — A group of Bengalis — Their love of 
long yarns, and of music — Panna Lall and his gymnast 
friends — Chundi Churn performs on the sitar—T\\e 
Indian music 227-251 



XU CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Benares. 

PAGES 

The plains of the Ganges — The crops, and the peasant Kfe 
— Sentiment of the great expanse — Sacredness of the 
river — Far-back worship of Siva — Benares a centre of 
Hindu Hfe — The streets and shops — The Golden 
Temple— The riverside, characteristic scenes — A spring 
festival — A talk with a yogi — The burning ghauts — 
Panna Lall wants to bathe— Religious ablutions— A 
self-mutilated fakir ...... 252-267 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Anglo-Indian and the Oyster. 

Allahabad — Difficulty of really knowing India — The great 
gulf of race- difference — The Hindu does not under- 
stand " Duty " — The duty-loving Englishman does not 
understand the Hindu — Race-divisions in the United 
States — We came to India as conquerors — The gulf 
remains, and will remain — Criticisms by an educated 
' ' oyster " — Aligarh affords an instance of friendly 
feeling between the two sections— The M.A.O. College 
— A convivial dinner-party — Sir Syed Ahmed and the 
Mahomedan influence — Horse-fair at Aligarh — Cabu- 
lees, and a native wrestling-bout . . . . 268-281 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Delhi and Agra. 

Approach to Delhi — The Fort and the old Palace — The 
town and population —The Jumma Mosque — The 
environs of Delhi, a waste of ruined cities— The Kutab 
Minar and the old fortress of Lalkab — Agra, the Fort 
and the Palace — The Jessamine Tower — Lovely marble 
and mosaic — The Taj at twilight — A fairy scene — 
Flocks of green parrots — Moonlight on the Jumna — 
" Do we not respect our women ? " — A coterie of pro- 
fessors — The population of Agra — Scenes at the rail- 
way stations — A favorable specimen of Young India 
— An incident in the train 282-208 



CONTENTS XIU 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Bombay. 

PAGES 

The native Bombay a wonderful spectacle — Workshops, 
saleshops, opium dens, theatres, temples, mosques — 
The population, Mahrattas and Parsees — The modern 
city and the manufacturing quarter — The Parsee nose 
— Justice Telang, a Mahratta — The Bunya Caste — 
Tribhovan Das at home — View from the Malabar Hill 
— A Bunya wedding — Native theatres — The Salvation 
Army — Across the harbor to Elephanta — The great 
cave-temple — Sculptured panels, the Hindu Trinity — 
The human-divine life of Siva — Impressive eifect of 
the whole — An opium den — Various sorts of " ecstasy " 
produced by these and other drugs — The proletariat at 
home — Music and conversation — Dream of a " United 
India " — Bombay at night — On the way to Aden — A 
calm and starlit ocean — A beautiful panorama . 299-324 



M THE OLD ORDER 

^ AND THE NEW INFLUENCES. 



I 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Old Order : Caste and Communism. 

Remarkable social movement in India — Complexity and 
corruption of Caste system — The Brahmans — Defence 
of caste from native point of view — Specimens of 
caste regulation — Caste tyranny — Story of a widow re- 
marriage — Pharisaism of respectability — Caste in its 
other aspect as a Trade-Guild — Tempering competition 
— Instances of this — Communism, the second great 
feature of social life — Village, Caste and Family com- 
munism — The last still flourishing — Anecdotes — Old 
sanctions being destroyed by commercialism— Sacred- 
ness of Family tie 327-344 



XIV CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The New Influences : 
Western Science and Commercialism. 

PAGES 

Great spread of Western education — Euclid and Political 
Economy at Tuticorin — Schools and Colleges through- 
out India — Cricket and golf — Young India — " We are 
all Agnostics now " — Similar spread of Commercialism 
— Interior of a cotton-mill at Bombay — Large profits, 
conditions of labor — Numerous trading posts and 
clerkships — The National Indian Congress — Its ideals 
and influence — Disliked by the British — The social 
gulf again — Our future in India — The break-up of vil- 
lage life — Problem of pauperism, Sir Henry Maine — 
Incongruity of Commercialism with the genius of India 
— Probable ascendancy of the former for a time— But 
only for a time . . . . . . . 345-363 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 

Seashore near Colombo . . . Frontispiece 

CiNGHALESE MAN 1 4 

A Jaffna Tamil . , . . . . . -15 
Jinrickshaw . . 17 

CiNGHALESE GIRL -19 

Kalua . .27 

Ploughing in the rice-fields 32 

Buddhist librarian-priest 34 

Kandy, general view full page 36 

Native hut 42 

Native street, with shops ...... 47 

Veddahs, aborigines of Ceylon . . . . ■ S^ 

Rice-boats on the Kaluganga 76 

Group of Tamil coolies 80 

Tamil girl plucking tea . . . . . -83 

Bullock-hackery, or light cart . . . -87 

cinghalese country-cart . . . . . .92 

Jetawanarama Dagoba ..... full page 98 

Thuparama Dagoba 104 

A ruined bathing-tank, Anuradhapura . . . 108 
Small guardian figure, Buddhist sculpture . . 113 

A Tamil man 119 

Nautch girl . . . . . . . . .129 

Great Pagoda at Tanjore .... full page 208 

Temple at Tanjore, general view . . . .211 

Temple and tank at Mylapore . . . ^ .224 
Chundi Churn B. ....... 240 

XV 



XVI 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Panna Lall B 

Woman playing sitar . 
The Ghauts at Benares 
The Dewan Khas at Delhi . 
The Jumma Musjid at Delhi 
Marble screen-work 
The Taj at Agra .... 
Street in Bombay, native quarter 
Parsee woman .... 
Parsee merchants . . 

The great Cave at Elephanta . 
Panel sculpture, Siva and Parvati 
Interior shrine at Elephanta . 
Side-cave, Elephanta . 



full page 



full page 



243 
248 
260 
283 
285 
289 
291 
300 
302 
304 
311 
314 
316 
322 



CEYLON 




■f'-^^ 




^OM ADAM'S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



CHAPTER I. 



COLOMBO. 

Imagine a blue-green ribbon of water some 60 yards 
wide, then rough sandy dunes to or 20 feet high, 
and then beyond, the desert, burning yellow in the 
sun — here and there partly covered with scrub, but 
for the most part seeming quite bare ; sometimes 
flat and stony, sometimes tossed and broken, some- 
times in great drifts and wreaths of sand, just like 
snowdrifts, delicately ribbed by the wind — the whole 
stretching away for miles, scores of miles, not a 
moving form visible, till it is bounded on the horizon 
by a ridge of hills of the most ethereal pink under 
an intense blue sky. Such is the view to the east 
of us now, as we pass through the Suez Canal 
(19th October, 1890). To the west the land looks 
browner and grayer ; some reeds mark a water- 
course, and about 10 miles off appears a frowning 
dark range of bare hills about 2,000 feet high, an 
outlying spur of the hills (Jebel Attakah) that 
bound the Gulf of Suez. 

In such a landscape one of the signal stations, 
with its neat tiled cottage and flagstaff, and a few 



6 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 




date palms and perhaps a tiny bit of garden, is qiViite 
an attraction to the eye. These stations are placed 
at intervals of about 6 miles all along the canlal. 
They serve to regulate the traffic, which is uqw 
enormous, and continuous night and day. 
great ships nearly fill the waterway, so that^ 
has to be drawn aside and moored in ord( 
let another pass ; and though they are not allo^ 
to go faster than 4 miles an hour they create ;i 
considerable wave in their rear, which keeps wash- 
ing down the banks. Tufts of a reedy grass hav(\ 
been planted in places to hold the sand together 
but the silt is very great, and huge steam-dredges 
are constantly at work to remove it. Here and therej 
on the bank is a native hut of dry reeds — three 
sides and a flat top — just a shelter from the sun ;, 
or an Arab tent, with camels tethered by the leg 
around it. At Kantarah the caravan track from 
Jerusalem — one of the great highways of the old 
world — crosses the canal ; there are a few wood 
and mud huts, and it is curious to see the string of 
laden camels and the Arabs in their unbleached 
cotton burnouses coming down — just as they might 
be coming down from the time of Father Abraham 
■ — and crossing the path of this huge modern steam- 
ship, with its electric lights and myriad modern 
appliances, the Kaiser Wilhelm now going half-way 
round the globe. 

The desert does not seem quite devoid of animal 
life ; at any rate along the canal side you may see 
tracks in the sand of rabbits and hares, occasional 
wagtail- like birds by the water, a few crows hover- 
ing above, or a sea-gull, not to mention camels and 



COLOMBO. 7 

a donkey or two, or a goat. Near Port Said they 
say the lagoons are sometimes white with flocks of 
peHcans and flamingoes, but we passed there in the 
night. It was fine to see the electric light, placed 
in the bows, throwing a clear beam and illuminating 
the banks for fully half a mile ahead, as we slowly 
steamed along. The driven sand looked like snow 
in the bluish light. The crescent moon and Venus 
were in the sky, and the red signal lights behind us 
of Port Said. 

The canal is 90 miles long, and a large part of 
it follows the bed of a very ancient canal which 
is supposed to have connected the two seas. It 
appears that there is a very slight movement of the 
water through it from south to north. 

We are now nearing Suez, and the heat is so 
great that it reverberates from the banks as from a 
furnace ; of course the deck is under an awning. 
The remains of a little village built of clay appears, 
but the huts have broken down, split by the fierce 
sun- rays, and some light frame-houses, roofed and 
walled with shingles, have taken their place. 

Gulf of Suez. — The town of Suez is a tumble- 
down little place, narrow lanes and alleys ; two- 
storied stone houses mostly, some with carved 
wooden fronts, and on the upper floors lattice-work, 
behind which I suppose the women abide. Some 
nice-looking faces in the streets, but a good many 
ruffians ; not so bad though as Port Said, where the 
people simply exist to shark upon the ships. In 
both places an insane medley of Arabs, fellahs, half- 
castes and Europeans, touts, guides, donkey-boys, 
etc., and every shade of dress and absurd hybrid 



8 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

costume, from extreme Oriental to correct English ; 
ludicrous scenes of passengers going on shore, 
ladies clinging round the necks of swarthy boatmen; 
donkey-boys shouting the names of their donkeys — 
" Mr. Bradlaugh, sir, very fine donkey," " Mrs. 
Langtry," " Bishop of London," etc. ; fearful alter- 
cations about claimed baksheesh ; parties beguiled 
into outlying quarters of the town and badly black- 
mailed ; refusals of boatmen to take you back to 
the ship while the very gong of departure is sound- 
ing ; and so forth. Suez however has a little 
caravan and coasting trade of its own, besides the 
railway w^hich now runs thence to Cairo, and has 
antique claims to a respectability which its sister 
city at the other end of the canal cannot share. 

Now that we are out in the gulf, the sea is deep 
blue, and very beautiful, the rocks and mountains 
along the shore very wild and bare, and in many 
parts of a strong red color. This arm of the Red 
Sea is about 150 miles long, and I think not more 
than 20 miles wide at any point ; in some places it 
is much less. We pass jutting capes and islands 
quite close on the west of us — great rocky ravine- 
cut masses absolutely bare of vegetation. On the 
east — apparently about 10 miles distant, but very 
clear — stands an outlying range of Sinai — Jebel 
Sirbal by name — looks about 5,000 or 6,000 feet 
high, very wild and craggy, many of the peaks 
cloven at the summit and gaping as if with the 
heat ; farther back some higher points are visible, 
one of which is probably Jebel Musa. A most 
extraordinary land ; at some places one can discern 
— especially with the aid of a glass — large tracts or 



COLOMBO. 9 

plains of loose sand, miles in extent, and perfectly 
level, except where they wash up in great drifts 
against the bases of the mountains. Across these 
plains tall dark columns can be distinguished slowly 
traveling — the dreaded sand-clouds borne on eddies 
of the wind. 

Indian Ocean, Oct, 2^tk, — Much cooler now. 
In the Red Sea, with thermometer at 90° In the 
cabins, heat was of course the absorbing topic. 
Everybody mopping ; punkahs in full swing. I 
believe the water there frequently reaches 90° F., 
and sometimes 95°; but here it is quite cool, probably 
not much over 60°, and that alone makes a great 
difference. It is a queer climate in the Red Sea : 
there seems to be always a haze, due to dust blown 
from the shores ; at the same time the air is very 
damp, owing to the enormous evaporation, clothes 
hung up get quite wet, and there are heavy dews. 
When the wind is aft the oppression from the heat 
is sometimes so great that ships have to be turned 
back and steamed against the breeze ; but even so 
casualties and deaths are not uncommon. Owing 
to the haze, and the breadth of the Red Sea which 
is as much as 200 miles in parts, little is seen of the 
shores. A few rocky islands are passed, and a 
good many awkward reefs which the passengers 
know nothing of The Straits of Bab-el- Mandeb are 
curious. The passage between the Island of Perim 
and the Arabian mainland is quite narrow, only a mile 
or two wide ; tossed wild-looking hills on the main- 
land, 3,000 or 4,000 feet high, with French fortifi- 
cations. The island itself lower and more rounded, 
with English fort and lighthouse; but looking very 



lo FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

black and bare, though owing to the moisture there 
is some kind of stunted heathery stuff growing on 
it. There are a few EngHsh here, and a native 
town of waggon-like tents clustered round the fort ; 
some little fishing and sailing boats along the 
shores. Turning eastwards along the south coast 
of Arabia the same awful land meets the eye as In 
the Gulf of Suez. A continual cloud of dust flies 
along It, through which one discerns sandy plains, 
and high parched summits beyond. There must 
however be water in some parts of this region, as 
it is back from here in this angle of Arabia that 
Mocha lies and the coffee is grown. 

Colombo. — I fear that the Red Sea combined with 
mutual boredom had a bad effect on the passengers' 
tempers, for terrible dissensions broke out; and after 
six days of the Indian Ocean, during which the only 
diversions were flying-fish outside and scandal- 
mongering inside the ship, it was a relief to land 
on the palm-fringed coast of Ceylon. The slender 
catamarans — or more properly outrigged canoes — 
manned by dusky forms, which come to take you 
ashore, are Indeed so narrow that it is Impossible to 
sit inside them ! They are made of a *' dug-out " 
tree-trunk (see frontispiece), with parallel bulwarks 
fastened on only lo inches or a foot apart ; across 
the bulwarks a short board Is placed, and on that 
you can sit. Two arms projecting on one side carry 
a float or light fish-shaped piece of wood, which rests 
on the water 8 feet or so from the canoe, and 
prevents the vessel from capsizing, which It would 
otherwise Infallibly do. Impelled by oars, or by a 
sail, the boat bounds over the water at a good speed; 



COLOMBO. I I 

and the mode of traveling- is very pleasant. There 
is no necessity however to embark in these frail 
craft, for respectable civilised boats, and even steam- 
launches, abound ; we are indeed in an important 
and busy port. 

A great granite mole, built five years ago, has con- 
verted an open roadstead into a safe and capacious 
harbor, and there is now probably no place in the 
East better supplied with mails and passenger boats 
than Colombo. It is the calling place for the great 
lines of steamers en route for Australia, for China and 
Japan, and for Calcutta and Burmah, not to mention 
smaller coasting boats from the mainland of India, 
and so forth. The city itself has only the slightest 
resemblance to a European town. There is a fort 
certainly, and a Government House, and barracks 
with a regiment of infantry (part of whom however 
are generally up country) ; there are two or three 
streets of two or even three-storied houses, with 
shops, banks, mercantile offices, etc. ; a few hotels 
and big goods stores, a lighthouse, and a large 
engineering works, employing some hundreds of 
Cinghalese and Tamil operatives ; and then you 
have done with the English quarter. The land is 
flat, and round about the part just described stretch 
open grass-covered spaces, and tree-fringed roads, 
with the tiny booths or huts of the darkies on both 
sides of them. Here and there are knots and 
congeries of little streets and native markets with 
multifarious life going on in them. Here is a street 
of better built cottages or little villas belonging 
to Eurasians — the somewhat mixed descendants of 
old Dutch and Portuguese settlers — small one or 



12 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

seldom two-storied houses of stuccoed brick, with a 
verandah in front and a little open court within, 
clustering round an old Dutch church of the 17th 
century. Here is the residential quarter of the 
official English and of the more aspiring among the 
natives — the old Cinnamon Gardens, now laid out in 
large villa-bungalows and private grounds. Here 
again is a Roman Catholic church and convent, or 
the grotesque facade of a Hindu temple; and every- 
where trees and flowering shrubs and, as one 
approaches the outskirts of the town, the plentiful 
broad leaves of coco-palms and bananas over- 
shadowing the roads. Nor in any description of 
Colombo should the fresh- water lake be forgotten, 
which ramifying and winding in most intricate 
fashion through the town, and in one place coming 
within a hundred yards of the sea, surprises one 
continually with enchanting glimpses. I don't know 
any more delightful view of its kind — all the more 
delightful because so unexpected — than that which 
greets the eye on entering the Fort Railway Station 
at Colombo. You pass through the booking-office 
and find yourself on a platform, which except for the 
line of rails between might be a terrace on the lake 
itself; a large expanse of water with wooded shores 
and islands, interspersed with villas, cottages and 
cabins, lies before you ; white-sailed boats are going 
to and fro ; groups of dark figures, waist-deep in 
water, are washing clothes ; children are playing 
and swimming in the water ; and when, as I saw it 
once, the evening sun is shining through the trans- 
parent green fringe of banana palms which occupies 
the immediate foreground, and the calm lake beyond 



COLOMBO. 1 3 

reflects like a mirror the gorgeous hues of sky and 
cloud, the scene is one which for effects of color 
can hardly be surpassed. 

Up and down these streets and roads, and by the 
side of this lake, and along the seashore and 
through the quays and docks, goes, as may be Im- 
agined, a most motley crowd. The Cinghalese and 
the Tamils are of course the most numerous, but 
besides these there are Mahomedans — usually called 
Moor-men here — and some Malays. The English 
In Ceylon may be divided into three classes : the 
official English, the planters, and the small trading 
English (Including employees on railway and other 
works). Then there are the anglicised native gentry, 
Cinghalese or Tamil, some of whom occupy official 
positions, and who largely adopt European dress 
and habits ; the non-anglicised ditto, who keep to 
their own ways and costume, and are not much seen 
In public ; the Dutch Eurasians, many of whom 
become doctors or solicitors (proctors) ; and the 
Portuguese, who are frequently traders in a small 
way. 

Specimens of all these, in their different degrees 
of costume and absence of costume, may be seen In 
Colombo, as Indeed in almost any place in Ceylon 
which can be dignified with the name of a town. 

Here for Instance Is a great big Moor-man with 
high fez of plaited grass, baggy white pants and 
turned-up shoes ; a figured vest on his body, and 
red shawl thrown over one shoulder. [He Is pro- 
bably a well-to-do shopkeeper ; not an agreeable 
face, but I find the Mahomedans have a good repu- 
tation for upright dealing and fidelity to their word.] 



H 



FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



Here a ruddy-brown CInghalese man, with hairy 
chest, and nothing on but a red loin-cloth, carrying 
by a string an earthenware pot, probably of palm- 
beer. [A peasant. The CInghalese are generally 
of this color, whereas the Tamils tend towards 
black, though shading off In the higher castes to 
an olive tint.] 

Another CInghalese, dressed all In white, white 




CINGHALESE MAN. 



cotton jacket and white cloth hanging to below the 
knees, with elegant semicircular tortoise-shell comb 
on his head ; a morbidly sensitive face with Its 
indrawn nose and pouting lips. [Possibly a private 
servant, or small official of one of the courts, or 
Arachchi. The comb Is a great mark of the low- 
country CInghalese. They draw the hair backwards 
over the head and put the comb on horizontally, 
like an Incomplete crown, with Its two ends sticking 



COLOMBO. 



15 



up above the forehead — very like horns from a 
front view ! The hair is then fastened in a knot 
behind, or sometimes left hanging down the back. 
This is a somewhat feeble face, but as a rule one 
may say that the Cinghalese are very intelligent. 
They make excellent carpenters and mechanics. 
Are generally sensitive and proud.] 




A JAFFNA TAMIL. 



Here come two Englishmen in tweed suits and 
tennis shoes — their umbrellas held carefully by the 
middle — apparently of the planter community, 
young, but rather w^eedy looking, with an unsteady, 
swimmy look about the eyes which I fear is not un- 
common among the planters ; I have seen it already 
well-developed in a mere boy of eighteen. 

Here a dozen or so of chetties (a Tamil com- 



1 6 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

merclal caste), with bare shaven and half-shaven 
heads, brown skins, and white musHns thrown 
gracefully round their full and sleek limbs ; the 
sacred spot marked on their foreheads, red betel 
in their mouths, and avarice in their faces. 

There a Tamil coolie or wage- worker, nearly naked 
except for a handkerchief tied round his head, with 
glossy black skin and slight yet graceful figure. 

Here a pretty little girl of nine or so, with blue 
beads round her neck, and the usual white cotton 
jacket and colored petticoat or ^ilai of the Cinghalese 
women, walking with a younger brother. 

Here three young Eurasian girls in light European 
costume and straw hats, hair loose or in pigtails 
down their backs, very pretty. [They are off for 
a walk along the Galle Face promenade by the sea, 
as the heat of the day is now past.] 

Here also an English lady, young and carefully 
dressed, but looking a little bored, driving in her 
pony-trap to do some shopping, with a black boy 
standing behind and holding a sunshade over her. 

One of the features of Colombo are the jinrick- 
shaws, or light two-wheeled gigs drawn by men, 
which abound in the streets. These Tamil fellows, 
in the lightest of costumes, their backs streaming 
under the vertical sun, bare-legged and often bare- 
headed, will trot with you in a miraculous way 
from one end of Colombo to the other, and for the 
smallest fee. Tommy Atkins delights to sit thus 
lordly behind the toiling " nigger." At eventide 
you may see him and his Eurasian girl — he in one 
jinrickshaw and she in another — driving out to the 
Galle Face Hotel, or some such distant resort along 



COLOMBO. 



17 



the shore of the many-sounding ocean. The Tamils 
are mostly slight and graceful in figure, and of an 
active build. Down at the docks they work by 
hundreds, with nothing on beyond a narrow band 
between the thighs, loading and unloading barges 
and ships — a study of the human figure. Some of 
them of course are thick and muscular, but mostly 
they excel in a kind of unconscious grace and fleet- 




A JINRICKSHAW. 
{Tamil cooly, Eurasian girl.) 

ness of form as of the bronze Mercury of Hercu- 
laneum, of which they often remind me. Their 
physiognomy corresponds with their bodily activity ; 
the most characteristic type that I have noticed 
among them has level brows, and eyes deep-set 
(and sometimes a little close together), straight nose, 
and well-formed chin. They are a more enter- 
prising pushing and industrious people than the 
Cinghalese, eager and thin, skins often very dark, 

c 



1 8 FROM Adam's teak to elephanta. 

with a concentrated, sometimes demonlsh, look be- 
tween the eyes — will-power evidently present — but 
often handsome. Altoeether a singular mixture of 
enterprise with demonic qualities ; for occultism Is 
rife among them, from the jugglery of the lower 
castes to the esoteric philosophy and speculatlveness 
of the higher. The horse-keepers and stable boys 
In Ceylon are almost all Tamils (of a low caste), and 
are a charming race, dusky active affectionate 
demons, fond of their horses, and with unlimited 
capacity of running, even over newly macadamised 
roads. The tea-coolles are also Tamils, and the 
road- workers, and generally all wage-laborers ; while 
the CInghalese, who have been longer located In the 
Island, keep to their own little peasant holdings and 
are not at all Inclined to come under the thumb of 
a master, preferring often Indeed to suffer a chronic 
starvation Instead. 

The Tamil women are, like their lords, generally 
of a sllcrhter build than the CInofhalese of the same 
sex, some Indeed are quite diminutive. Among 
both races some very graceful and good-looking 
girls are to be seen, up to the age of sixteen 
or so, fairly bright even In manner ; especially 
among the CInghalese are they distinguished for 
their fine eyes ; but at a later age, and as wives, 
they lose their good looks and tend to become rather 
heavy and brutish. 

The contrast between the CInghalese and the 
Tamils Is sufficiently marked throughout, and 
though they live on the Island on amicable terms 
there Is as a rule no love lost between them. The 
CInghalese came to Ceylon, apparently from the 



COLOMBO. 



19 



mainland of India, somewhere in the 6th century 
B.C., and after pushing the aborigines up into the 
woods and mountains (where some of them may yet 
be found), occupied the whole island. It was not 
long however before the Tamils followed, also from 
India; and since then, and through a long series of 
conflicts, the latter have maintained their position, 




CINGHALESE GIRL. 



and now form the larger part of the population in 
the north of the island, while the Cinghalese are 
most numerous in the south. Great numbers of 
Tamil peasants — men, women, and children — still 
come over from the mainland every year, and go 
up-country to work in the tea-gardens, where there 
is a great demand for coolie labour. 

In character the Cinghalese are more like the 



20 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

Italians, easy-going, reasonably idle, sensitive, 
shrewd, and just a bit romantic. Their large eyes 
and tortoise-shell combs and long hair give them a 
very womanly aspect ; and many of the boys and 
youths have very girlish features and expressions. 
They have nearly always grace and dignity of man- 
ner, the better types decidedly handsome, with their 
well-formed large heads, short beards, and long 
black hair, composed and gentle, remindful of some 
pictures of Christ. In Inferior types you have thick- 
featured, morbidly sensitive, and at the same time 
dull-looking persons. As a rule their frames are 
bigger and more fleshy than those of the Tamils, 
and their features less cleanly cut. Captain R. 
Knox, in his " Nineteen Years' Captivity In the 
Kingdom of Conde Uda" (1681), says of them : — 
"In carriage and behaviour they are very grave 
and stately, like unto Portuguese ; in understanding 
quick and apprehensive ; in design, subtle and 
crafty ; In discourse, courteous, but full of flatteries ; 
naturally Inclined to temperance both in meat and 
drink, but not to chastity ; near and provident in 
their families, commending good husbandry." 

The CInghalese are nearly all Buddhists, while 
the Tamils are Hindus. Buddhism was introduced 
into Ceylon about the 4th century B.C., and has 
flourished here ever since ; and Buddhist rock- 
temples are to be found all over the Island. The 
Tamils have a quite extensive literature of con- 
siderable antiquity, mostly philosophical or philo- 
sophical poetical ; and their language Is very rich in 
vocabulary as w^ell as In Its grammatical forms and 
inflexions — though very terse, with scanty terms 



COLOMBO. 21 

of courtesy (" thank you," '' good-morning," and such 
like), and a Httle harsh In sound, /^'s and rs flying 
through the teeth at a great rate. Cinghalese is 
much more Hquid and pleasant in sound, and has 
many more Aryan words in it. In fact it is supposed 
to be an offshoot of Sanskrit, whereas Tamil seems 
to have no relation to Sanskrit, except that it has 
borrowed a good many words. The curious thing 
is that, so little related as races, the Tamils should 
have taken their philosophy, as they have done, 
from the Sanskrit Vedas and Upanishads, and really 
expressed the ideas if anything more compactly 
and systematically than the Sanskrit books do. 
Though poor in literature L believe, yet the Cingha- 
lese has one of the best books of chronicles which 
exist in any language — the Mahawanso — giving a 
very reliable history of the race (of course with 
florid adornment of stupendous miracles, which can 
easily be stripped off) from their landing in Ceylon 
down to modern times. The Mahawanso was 
begun by Mahanamo, a priest, who about 460 a.d. 
compiled the early portion comprising the period 
from B.C. 543 to A.u. 301, after which it was con- 
tinued by successive authors right down to British 
times, i.e., A.T>. 1758 ! 

There are two newspapers in Colombo printed in 
the Cinghalese language, one of which is called 
The Buddhist World \ there is also a paper 
printed in Tamil ; and there are three English 
newspapers. In "places of entertainment " Colom- 
bo (and the same is true of the towns in India) is 
very wanting. There is no theatre or concert-hall. 
It can be readily understood that though the popu- 



2 2 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

lation Is large (120,000), it Is so diverse that a suffi- 
ciently large public cannot be found to support such 
places. The native races have each their own 
festivals, which provide for them all they require 
in that way. The British are only few — 5,000 in 
all Ceylon, including military, out of a population 
of over three millions ; and even if the Eurasian 
population — ^who of course go in for Western man- 
ners and ideals— were added, their combined num- 
bers would be only scanty. An occasional circus 
or menagerie, or a visit from a stray theatrical 
company on its way to Australia, is all that takes 
place in that line. 

For the rest there is a Salvation Army, with 
thriving barracks, a Theosophist Society, a branch 
of the Royal Asiatic Society, and various other little 
clubs representing diff"erent sections. Society is 
of course very much broken up into sections. Even 
the British, few as they are, are sadly divided by 
cliques and jealousies ; the line between the official 
English and the "second-class" English is terribly 
severe (as indeed all over India) ; and between 
these again and the Eurasians. Even where Cing- 
halese or Tamil or Eurasian families of old standing 
attain important official positions, an insuperable 
stiffness still marks the intercourse between them 
and the British. " Ah ! " said a planter to a young 
friend of mine who had just shaken hands rather 
cordially with a native gentleman, "Ah ! my boy, you 
won't do that when you've been here three years ! " 
Thus a perfect social amalgamation and the sweet- 
ness of brethren dwelling together in unity are things 
still rather far distant in this otherwise lovely isle. 



COLOMBO. 53 

Talking about the beauty of the island, I was 
very much struck, even on my first landing, with its 
" spicy gales." The air is heavy with an aromatic 
fragrance which, though it forced itself on my at- 
tention for three or four weeks before I got fairly 
accustomed to it, I have never been able to trace 
to any particular plant or shrub. It is perhaps 
not unlike the odor of the cinnamon leaf when 
bruised, but I don't think it comes from that source. 
I am never tired of looking at the coco-nut palms ; 
they grow literally by the million all along this coast 
to the north and south of Colombo. To the south 
the sea-shore road is overshadowed by them. I 
have been some miles along the road, and the belt 
of land, a hundred yards or so wide, between it and 
the sea, is thick with their stems right down to the 
water's edge, over which they lean lovingly, for they 
are fond of the salt spray. On the other side of the 
road too they grow, and underneath them are little 
villas and farmsteads and tiny native cabins, with 
poultry and donkeys and humped cows and black 
pigs and brown children, in lively confusion ; while 
groups of peasant men and women in bright-colored 
wraps travel slowly along, and the little bullock 
gigs, drawn by active little brahmin bulls with jing- 
ling bells, trot past at a pace which would do credit 
to an English pony — a scene which they say con- 
tinues much the same the whole way to Galle (80 
miles). These palms do not grow^ wild in Ceylon ; 
they are all planted and cared for, whether in huge 
estates, or in the rood of ground which surrounds a 
Cinghalese cabin. The Cinghalese have a pretty 
saying that they cannot grow afar from the sound of 



24 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

the human voice. They have also a saying to the 
effect that a man only sees a straight coco-palm 
once in a lifetime. Many of the other kinds of palms 
grow remarkably straight, but this kind certainly 
does not. In a grove of them you see hundreds of 
the grey smooth stems shooting upwards in every 
fantastic curve imaginable, with an extraordinary 
sense of life and power, reminding one of the way 
in which a volley of rockets goes up into the air. 
Then at the height of 50 or 60 feet they break 
into that splendid crown of green plumes which 
sparkles glossy in the sun, and waves and whispers 
to the lightest breeze. 

Along this palm-fringed and mostly low and 
sandy shore the waves break — with not much 
change of level in their tides — loudly roaring in the 
S.W. monsoon, or with sullen swell when the wind 
is in the N.E., but seldom altogether calm. A 
grateful breeze tempers the 90° of the thermo- 
meter. A clumsy-hulled lateen-sailed fishing boat is 
anchored in the shelter of a sandy spit ; two or 
three native men and boys are fishing with rod and 
line, standing ankle-deep at the water's edge. The 
dashing blue waves look tempting for a bathe, but 
the shore is comparatively deserted ; not a soul is to 
be seen in the water, infested as it is by the all- 
dreaded shark. Only, 300 or 400 yards out, can be 
discerned the figure of a man — also fishing with a 
line — apparently standing up to his middle in water, 
but really sitting on a kind of primitive raft or boat, 
consisting of three or four logs of wood, slightly 
shaped, with upturned ends, and loosely tied to- 
gether — the true catamaran (Jmttu mar am, tied 



COLOMBO. 25 

tree). The water of course washes up and around 
him, but that is pleasant on a hot day. He is safe 
from sharks ; there is a slender possibility of his 
catching something for dinner ; and there he sits, a 
relic of pre-Adamite times, while the train from 
Kalutara rushes by with a shriek to Colombo. 



CHAPTER II. 

KANDY AND PEASANT LIFE. 

Ernst Haeckel In his book about Ceylon says 
that the Cinghalese, though a long civilised race, 
are as primitive as savages in their dress, cabins, 
etc. ; and this remark strikes me as very true. As 
soon as you get off the railways and main roads you 
find them living in their little huts under their coco- 
palms in the most primitive fashion, and probably 
much as they did when they first came to Ceylon, 
2,000 or 3,000 years ago. 

On the 4th of this month (December), my friend 
" Ajax " landed at Colombo from England. He is 
on his way to Assam, in the tea-planting line, and 
is staying a week in the island to break the journey. 
He is a thorough Socialist in feeling, and a jolly 
fellow, always bright and good-natured, and with a 
great turn for music. We came up here to Kandy, 
and shortly after our arrival went to call on a Cing- 
halese peasant whose acquaintance I had lately 
made — Kalua by name — and found him in his little 
cabin, about a mile out of the town among the hills, 
where he lives with his brother Kirrah. Leaving 
Kandy by footpaths and alongside hedgerows over- 
run by a wild sunflower, and by that extraordinary 
creeper, with a verbena-like blossom, the lantana, 
which though said to have been introduced only 



KANDY AND PEASANT LIFE. 



27 



about fifty years ago now runs in masses over the 
whole island, we came at last to a lovely little glen, 
with rice-lands laid out in terraces at the bottom, 
and tangles of scrub and jungle up the sides, among 
which were clumps of coco-nut and banana, indi- 
cating the presence of habitations. Under one of 




KALUA. 



these groves, in a tiny little mud and thatch cabin, 
we found Kalua ; in fact he saw us coming, and 
with a shout ran down to meet us. We were soon 
seated in the shade and talking such broken English 
and Tamil as we could respectively command. The 
brothers were very friendly, and brought us coco- 
nut milk and chdgeri beer (made by cutting the 



2 8 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

great flower-bud off the chdgeri palm, and letting 
the sap from the wounded stem flow into a jar, 
where it soon ferments ; it has a musty flavor, and 
I cannot say that I care for it). Then their father, 
hearing of our arrival, came from half a mile off to 
have a look at us — a regular jolly old savage, with 
broad face and broad belly — but unfortunately, as 
we could not speak Cinghalese, there was no means 
of communicating with him, except by signs. This 
little valley seems to be chiefly occupied by the 
brothers and their kindred, forming a little tribe, so 
to speak. Kalua and his father both own good 
strips of rice-land, and are perhaps rather better off 
than most Cinghalese peasants, though that is not 
saying much. Married sisters and their children, and 
other relatives, also occupy portions of the glen ; but 
Kalua and Kirrah are not married yet. It seems 
to be a point of honor with the Cinghalese (and 
indeed with most of the East Indian races) not to 
marry till their sisters are wedded. Like the Irish, 
the brothers work to provide a dowry for their 
sisters ; and generally family feeling and helpfulness 
are very strong among them. To strike a father or 
a mother is, all over Ceylon (and India), a crime of 
almost unheard-of atrocity. Kalua gives a good 
deal of his earnings to his parents, and buys addi- 
tions to the family rice-lands — which as far as I can 
make out are held to a considerable extent as 
common property. 

There was a native king and kingdom of Kandy 
till about eighty years ago (1814), when the British 
overthrew it ;. and it is curious that the old Kandian 
law — which was recognised for some time by the 



KANUY AND PEASANT LIFE. 29 

British — contains very evident traces of the old 
group- marriage which is found among so many 
races in their pre-civihsation period. There were 
two kinds of marriage treated of in the Kandian 
law — the Deega marriage, in which the wife went 
(as with us) to the house of her husband, and be- 
came more or less his property ; and the Beena 
marriage, in which he came to live with her among 
her own people, but was liable to expulsion at any 
time ! The latter form is generally supposed to be 
the more primitive, and belongs to the time when 
heredity is traced through the woman, and when 
also polygamous and polyandrous practices prevail. 
And this is confirmed by a paragraph of the 
Kandian law, or custom, which forbade inter- 
marriac^e between the children of two brothers, or 
between the children of two sisters, but allowed it 
between the children of a brother and a sister — the 
meaning of course being that two brothers might 
have the same wife, or two sisters the same husband, 
but that a brother and sister — having necessarily 
distinct wives and husbands — would produce chil- 
dren who could not be more nearly related to each 
other than cousins. It is also confirmed by the 
fact that a kind of customary group-marriage still 
lingers among the Cinghalese — e.g, if a man is 
married, his brothers not uncommonly have access to 
the wife — though owing to its being discountenanced 
by Western habits and law, this practice is gradually 
dying out. 

Kalua has seen rather more of the world than 
some of his people, and has had opportunities of 
making a little money now and then. It appears 



30 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

that at the age of twelve or thirteen he took to 
** devil-dancing " — probably his father set him to it. 
He danced in the temple and got money ; but now- 
a-days does not like the priests or believe in the 
temples. This devil-dancing appears to be a relic 
of aboriginal Kandian demon-worship : the evil 
spirits had to be appeased, or in cases of illness 
or misfortune driven away by shrieks and frantic 
gestures. It is a truly diabolical performance. The 
dancers (there are generally two of them) dress 
themselves up in fantastic array, and then execute 
the most extraordinary series of leaps, bounds, 
demivolts, and somersaults, in rhythmical climaxes, 
accompanied by clapping of hands, shrieks, and 
tomtomming, for about twenty minutes without 
stopping, by the end of which time the excitement 
of themselves and spectators is intense, and the 
patient — if there is one — is pretty sure to be either 
killed or cured ! When the Buddhists came to the 
island they incorporated these older performances 
into their institutions. Some two or three years ago 
however Hagenbeck, of circus celebrity, being in 
Ceylon engaged a troupe of Kandians — of whom 
Kalua was one — to give a native performance for 
the benefit of the Europeans ; and since that time the 
old peasant life has palled upon our friend, and it is 
evident that he lives in dreams of civilisation and 
the West. Kalua is remarkably well-made, and 
active and powerful. He is about twenty-eight, 
with the soft giraffe-like eyes of the Cinghalese, and 
the gentle somewhat diffident manner which they 
affect ; his black hair is generally coiled in a knot 
behind his head, and, with an ornamental belt sus- 



KANDY AND PEASANT LIFE. 3 1 

taining his colored skirt, and a shawl thrown over 
his shoulder, he looks quite handsome. Kirrah is 
thinner and weaker, both mentally and physically, 
with a clinging affectionateness of character which 
is touching. Then there are two nephews, Pinha 
and Punjha, whom I have seen once or twice — 
bright nice-looking boys, anxious to pick up phrases 
and words of English, and ideas about the wonderful 
Western world, which is beginning to dawn on their 
horizon — though alas ! it will soon destroy their 
naked beauty and simplicity. To see Punjha go 
straight up the stem of a coco-nut tree fifty feet 
high is a caution ! He just puts a noose of rope 
round his two feet to enable him to grasp the stem 
better with his soles, clasps his hands round the 
trunk , brings his knees up to his ears, and shoots up 
like a frog swimming ! / 

The coco-nut palm is everything to the Cingha- 
lese : they use the kernel of the nut for food, either 
as a curry along with their rice, or as a flavoring 
to cakes made of rice and sugar ; the shell serves 
for drinking cups and primeval spoons ; the husky 
fibre of course makes string, rope, and matting ; the 
oil pressed from the nut, in creaking antique mills 
worked by oxen, is quite an article of commerce, 
and is used for anointing their hair and bodies, as 
well as for their little brass lamps and other pur- 
poses ; the woody stems come in for the framework 
of cabins, and the great leaves either form an excel- 
lent thatch, or when plaited make natural screens, 
which in that climate often serve for the cabin- 
walls in place of anything more substantial. When 
Ajax told Kirrah that there were no coco-palms in 



32 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

England, the latter's surprise was unfeigned as he 
exclaimed, '' How do you live, then ? " 

The other great staple of CInghalese life Is rice. 
Kalua's family rlce-helds lay below us In larger 
patches along the bottom of the glen, and terraced 
In narrow strips a little way up the hill at the head 
of It. The rice-lands are, for Irrigation's sake, 
always laid out In level patches, each surrounded by 
a low mud bank, one or two feet high ; sometimes, 
where there Is water at hand, they are terraced 



^^;.f^*^^p^' 




:v;«:i^ 



PLOUGHING IN THE RICE-FIELDS, WITH BUFFALOS. 

quite a good way up the hillsides, something like the 
vineyards In Italy. During and after the rains the 
water Is led onto the various levels successively, 
which are thus well flooded. While In flood they 
are ploughed — with a rude plough drawn by humped 
cattle, or by buffalos — and sown as the water sub- 
sides. The crop soon springs up, a brilliant green, 
about as high as barley, but with an ear more re- 
sembling oats, and In seven or eight weeks is ready 
to be harvested. Boiled rice, with some curried 



KANDY AND PEASANT LIFE. 2)3 

vegetable or coco-nut, just to give it a flavor, is 
the staple food all over Ceylon among the natives — 
two meals a day, sometimes in poorer agricultural 
districts only one ; a scanty fare, as their thin limbs 
too often testify. They use no bread, but a few 
cakes made of rice-flour and ghee and the sugar of 
the chdgeri palm. 

The brothers' cabin is primitive enough — just a 
little thatched place, perhaps twelve feet by eight, 
divided into two — a large wicker jar or basket 
containing store of rice, one or two boxes, a few 
earthenware pots for cooking in, fire lighted on 
the ground, no chair or table, and little sign of 
civilisation except a photograph or two stuck on 
the wall and a low cane-seated couch for sleeping 
on. The latter however is quite a luxury, as the 
Cinghalese men as often as not sleep on the earth 
floor. 

We stayed a little while chatting, while every 
now and then the great husked coco-nuts (of w^hich 
you have to be careful) fell with a heavy thud from 
the trees ; and then Kalua came on with us to 
Kandy, and we went to see the great Buddhist 
temple there, the Devala Maligawa, which contains 
the precious tooth-relic of Buddha. 

Architecturally nothing, the temple is interesting 
for the antique appearance of its gardens, shrines, 
priests' cottages, library, fishponds, etc. ; sacred fish 
and turtles coming to be fed by the pious ; rude 
frescoes of the infernal torments of the wicked, not 
unlike our mediaeval designs on similar subjects ; 
the sacred shrine itself with ivory and silver doors ; 
the dirty yellow-stoled priests arriving with huge 

D 



34 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANT A. 



keys to open it, but first washing their feet In the 
forecourt ; the tomtoms and horns blowing ; flowers 
scattered about ; and then the interior chamber of 
the shrine, where behind strong bars of iron reposes 
a golden and bell-shaped cover, crusted with jewels 
— the outermost of six successive covers, within the 




BUDDHIST PRIEST. 
(^Librarian at the l^emple at KaJtdy, with pahn-leaf MS. book in lap.) 



last of which is the tooth itself (reported by Emerson 
Tennent to be about two inches long, and probably 
the fang of a crocodile !) ; then the little golden and 
crystal images of Buddha in various little shrines to 
themselves ; and, most interesting of all, the library 
with its old MS. books written on strips of talipot 



KANDY AND PEASANT LIFE. 35 

palm leaf, beautifully done in Cinghalese, Pall, San- 
skrit, etc., illuminated with elegant designs, and 
bound by silk cords in covers of fretted silver. The 
old librarian priest was a charming specimen of a 
Buddhist priest — gentle, intelligent, and apparently 
with a vein of religious feeling in his character — and 
spoke with interest about the various texts and 
manuscripts. It is a pity that so much cannot be 
said of the Buddhist priests generally, who are as a 
rule — ^in Ceylon at any rate — an ignorant, dirty, 
betel-chewing and uninviting-looking lot. 

At the botanical gardens at Peradeniya — three 
or four miles out of Kandy — w^e saw a specimen of 
the talipot palm in full flower. This beautiful palm 
— unlike the coco palm — grows perfectly erect and 
straight ; it flowers only once, and then dies. 
Haeckel says that it lives from fifty to eighty 
years, and that the blossom is sometimes thirty or 
forty feet long. The specimen that we saw in blos- 
som was about forty-five feet high in the stem ; and 
then from its handsome crown of huge leaves sprang 
a flower, or rather a branched spike of numerous 
white flowers, which I estimated at fifteen feet high 
(but which I afterwards saw described in the news- 
papers as twenty feet high). Baker says that the 
flower bud is often as much as four feet long, and 
that it opens with a smart report, when this beauti- 
ful white plume unfolds and lifts itself in the sun. 
The natives use the great leaf of the talipot — which 
is circular and sometimes eight or nine feet in dia- 
meter — as an umbrella. They fold it together along 
its natural corrugations, and then open it to ward 
off sun or rain. 



KANDY AND PEASANT LIFE. 37 

Kandy is very beautiful. It stands nearly 2,000 
feet high, by the side of an artificial lake which the 
old kings of Kandy made, and embosomed in hills 
covered by lovely woods full of tropical plants and 
flowers and commanding beautiful views from their 
slopes and summits. There is a small native town 
containing the usual mixed population of Cinghalese, 
Tamils, and Moor-men; there are one or two English 
hotels, a church, library and reading-room ; a few 
residents' houses, and a scattered population of 
English tea-planters on the hills for some miles 
round, who make Kandy their rendez-vous. 

Ajax makes great friends with the native youths 
and boys here ; he has an easy friendly way with 
them, and they get hold of his hand and walk along- 
side. Of course they are delighted to find any 
Mahate who will treat them a little kindly ; but 
I fear the few English about are much shocked at 
our conduct. When I first came to Ceylon my 
Tamil friend A. chaffed me about my way of calling 
him and the rest of the population, whether Tamil 
or Mahomedan or Cinghalese, all indiscriminately 
natives, " as if we were so many oysters!' I told 
this to Ajax, and of course there was nothing for 
it after that but to call them all oysters ! 

We find the few British whom we have come 
across in our travels very much set against the 
" oysters." There is something queer about the 
British and their insularity ; but I suppose It is more 
their misfortune than their fault. Certainly they 
will allow that the oysters are not without merit — 
indeed if one keeps them to it they will often speak 
quite warmly of the tenderness and afifectionateness 



38 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

of servants who have nursed them throug^h lonof ill- 
nesses, etc. — but the idea of associating with them 
on terms of equahty and friendship is somehow 
unspeakable and not to be entertained. It seems 
almost de riguettr to say something disparaging 
about the oyster, when that topic turns up — as a 
way of showing one's own breeding, I suppose ; after 
that has been done, however, it is allowable to grant 
that there are exceptions, and even to point out some 
kindly traits, pearls as it were, which are occasion- 
ally found in the poor bivalve. It strikes me how- 
ever that the English are the chief losers by this 
insular habit. They look awfully bored and miser- 
able as a rule in these up-country parts, which must 
almost necessarily be the case where there are only 
five or six residents in a station, or within accessible 
distances of each other, and confined entirely to each 
other's society. 

One day Ajax and I went up to Nuwara Ellia. 
The railway carriage was full of tea-planters (includ- 
ing one or two wives and sisters), and there were 
a few at the hotel. It was curious to see some 
English faces of the cold-mutton-commercial type, 
and in quite orthodox English attire, in this out-of- 
the-way region. The good people looked sadly 
bored, and it seemed a point of honor with them 
to act throughout as if the colored folk didn't exist 
or were invisible — also as if they were deaf, to judge 
by the shouting. In the evening however (at the 
hotel) we felt touched at the way in which they 
cheered up when Ajax and I played a few familiar 
tunes on the piano. They came round, saying it 
reminded them of home, and entreated us to go on ; 



KANDY AND PEASANT LIFE. 39 

SO we played for about two hours, Ajax improvising 
as usual in the most charming way. 

Nuwara Ellia is 6,000 feet above the sea — a little 
village with an hotel or tw^o — a favorite resort from 
the sultry airs of Colombo and the lowlands. Here 
the Britisher finds fires in the sittine-rooms and 
thick mists outside, and dons his great-coat and 
feels quite at home. But we, having only just come 
from the land of fogs, did not appreciate these joys, 
and thought the place a little bleak and bare. 



CHAPTER III. 

KURUN^GALA. 

On my way here, on the coach, I fell In with 
Monerasingha, a Cinghalese of some education and 
ability, a proctor or solicitor. He is a cheerful 
little man, an immense talker, and very keen on 
politics. He was very amusing about the English ; 
says they are very agreeable at first, '' but after fhree 
months' stay in the island a complete change comes 
over them — won't speak to us or look at us — hit I 
can give it the7n backr His idea seems to be that 
representative institutions are wanted to restore to 
the people that interest in public life which has been 
taken from them by the destruction of their com- 
munal institutions under British rule. He seems to 
be a great hater of caste, and thinks the English 
have done much good in that matter. '' I am loyal 
enough, because I know we are much better off than 
we should be under Russia. The English are stupid 
and incapable of understanding us, and don't go 
among us to get understanding ; but they mean well, 
according to their lights." 

This place (called Kornegalle by the English) is a 
little town of 2,000 or 3,000 inhabitants, fifty miles 
from Colombo and eleven miles (by coach) from 
Polgahawella, the nearest railway station. It lies 
just at the foot of the mountain region of Ceylon, 



KURUN^GALA. 4 1 

and takes Its name, Kurunegala or Elephant-rock, 
from a huge Gibraltar-like rock, 600 feet high, at the 
base of which it nestles — and whose rounded dark 
granite structure, wrinkled with weather and largely 
bare of trees or any herbage, certainly bears a re- 
markable resemblance, both in form and color, to a 
couchant elephant. Ascending its steep sides, on 
which the sun strikes with fierce heat during the mid- 
day, one obtains from the summit a fine view — west- 
ward over low plains, eastward over mountain ranges 
rising higher and higher towards the centre of the 
island. The prevailing impression of the landscape 
here, as elsewhere in Ceylon, is its uniform green. 
There is no change of summer or winter. (Though 
this is the coolest time of year, the daily tempera- 
ture ranges from 85° to 90- in the shade.) The trees 
do not cast their leaves at any stated time, though 
individual trees will sleep at intervals, resting so. 
In every direction the same color meets the eye — 
tracts of green scrub, green expanses of forest, green 
rice-fields, and the massed green of bananas and 
coco-palms. A little monotonous this in the general 
landscape, though it is plentifully compensated on a 
near view by the detailed color of insect and flower 
life. One curious feature is that though the country 
is well populated, hardly a trace of habitation is to 
be seen from any high point such as this. Even 
Kurunegala, which lies at our feet, is only distin- 
guishable by its court-house and prison and one or 
two other emblems of civilisation ; the native cabins, 
and even in many cases the European houses — which 
are of one storey only — are entirely hidden by trees. 
Those clumps however of coco-palms which you see 



42 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

Standing like oases in the general woods, or breaking 
the levels of the rice-fields, with occasional traces 
of blue smoke curling up through them, are sure 
indications of litde native hamlets clustered beneath 
— often far far from any road, and accessible only 
by natural footpaths worn by naked feet. 



^^^^^m ^^S 


tifc 


^^ 


' ■ ~^^^^^~^ ^^S 


ft 


^ji 




1 






9 






H[ 






H 




^^^.^. _ ■"^"^'^^•^^^^^^^p 


^^^^ 




|^M|||j| 




^^^^^^^m>-.. . " -J*"®** 


^^i 





NATIVE HUT. 
(^Among banana and coco-palms^ 



From the top of the rock one gets a good view of 
the tank which supplies irrigation water for the town 
and neighborhood. It is about three-quarters of a 
mile long and half a mile broad, and forms a pretty 
little lake, over which kites hover and kingfishers 
skim, and in which the people daily bathe. These 
tanks and irrigation channels are matters of the 



KURUN^GALA. 43 

Utmost importance, to which I think Government can 
hardly give too much attention. Their importance 
was well understood in past times, as indeed the 
remains and ruins of immense works of this kind, 
over a thousand years old, in various parts of the 
island fully testify. A little is being done towards 
their renewal and restoration, but the tendency to- 
day is to neglect the interests of the rice-growing 
peasant in favor of the tea-planting Englishman. 
The paddy tax, which presses very hardly on the 
almost starving cultivator, while tea goes scot-free, 
is an instance of this. Tea, which is an export and 
a luxury, and which enriches the few, is thought to 
be so much more important than an article which is 
grown for home consumption and for the needs of 
the many. It is of course only an instance of the 
general commercial policy of all modern Govern- 
ments ; but one cannot the less for that think it a 
mistake, and an attempt to make the pyramid of 
social prosperity stand upon its apex. There is 
somethinor curious — and indeed is it not self-contra- 

o 

dictory ? — in the fact that every country of the 
civilized world studies above all things the increase 
of its exports — is engaged, not in producing things 
primarily for its own use, but in trying to get other 
people to buy what it produces ! — as if we all stood 
round and tried to shuffle off our bad wares on the 
others, in the hope that they by some accident might 
return us good stuff in exchange. Somehow the 
system does not seem as if it would work ; it looks 
too like the case of that island where the inhabitants 
all earned a precarious living by taking in each other's 
washing. What, one may ask, is really the cause of 



44 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

the enormous growth of this practice of neglecting 
production for use In favor of production for export 
and for the market ? Is It not simply money and 
the merchant Interest ? Production at home by the 
population and for Its own use Is and always must 
be, one would think, by far the most Important for 
the population and for Its own comfort and welfare, 
though a margin may of course be allowed for the 
acquirement by exchange of some few articles which 
cannot be grown at home. But production such as 
this does not necessarily mean either money or mer- 
cantile transaction. Conceivably It may very well 
take place without either these or the gains which 
flow from their use — without profits or Interest or 
dividends or anything of the kind. But this would 
never do ! The money and commercial Interest, 
which Is now by far the most pow^erful Interest In 
all modern states, Is not such a fool as to favor a 
system of national economy which would be Its own 
ruin. No ; It must encourage trade In every way, 
at all costs. Trade, commerce, exchange, exports 
and Imports — these are the things which bring 
dividends and Interest, which fill the pockets of the 
parasites at the expense of the people ; and so the 
nations stand round, obedient, and carry on the futile 
game till further orders. 

As a matter of fact in these hot countries, like 
Ceylon and India, almost unlimited results of pro- 
ductiveness can be got by perfected irrigation, and 
as long as the peasantry In these lands are (as they 
are) practically starving, and the irrigation works 
practically neglected, the responsIblHty for such a 
state of affairs must lie with the rulers ; and natu- 



KURUN^GALA. 45 

rally no mere shuffling of commercial cards, or en- 
couragement of an export trade which brings fortunes 
into the hands of a few tea-planters and merchants, 
can be expected to make things better. 

It is sad to see the thin and famished mortals who 
come in here from the country districts round to 
beg. Many of them, especially the younger ones, 
have their limbs badly ulcerated. One day, going 
through the hospital, the doctor — a Eurasian — took 
me through a ward full of such cases. He said that 
they mostly soon got better with the better hospital 
diet ; "but," he added, " when they get back to their 
old conditions they are soon as bad as ever." In 
fact the mass of the population in a place like 
Colombo looks far sleeker and better off than in 
these country districts ; but that only affords another 
instance of how the modern policy encourages the 
shifty and crafty onhanger of commercial life at the 
cost of the sturdy agriculturist — and I need not say 
that the case is the same at home as abroad. 

It is quite a pretty sight to see the bathing in 
the tanks. It takes place in the early morning, and 
indeed during most of the day. Cleanliness is a 
religious observance, and enofrained in the habits 
of the people. Of course there are exceptions, but 
save among the lowest castes this is the rule. An 
orthodox Hindu is expected not only to wash him- 
self, but his own cloth, at least once a day. The 
climate makes bathing a pleasure, and the people 
linger over it. Men and boys, women and children, 
together or in groups not far distant from each 
other, revel and splash in the cool liquid ; their 
colored wraps are rinsed and spread to dry on the 



46 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

banks, their brass pots glance in the sun as they 
dip the water with them and pour it over their own 
heads, their long black hair streams down their 
backs. Then, leaving the water, they pluck a twig 
from a certain tree, and, squatting on their hams, 
with the frayed twig-end rub their teeth and talk 
over the scandal of the day. This tooth-cleaning 
gossiping business lasts till they^re dry, and often 
a good deal longer, and-.is,Trik^y, one of the most 
enjoyable parts of the day to theS^ild oyster. In 
unsophisticated places there is no distinction of 
classes in this process, and rich and poor join in 
the public bathing alike — in fact there is very little 
difference in their dress and habits anyhow, as far 
as regards wealth and poverty — but of course where 
Western ideas are penetrating, the well-to-do natives 
adopt our habits and conduct their bathing dis- 
creetly at home. ^^v 

The people never (except it be children) ^^k into 
the water qtdte naked, and the women al%t^s 
retain one of their wraps wound roun4 t^e^t)dly. 
These wraps are very long, and the skilT^^^^di 
which they manage to wash first one end and then 
the other, winding and unwinding, and remaining 
decorously covered all the time, is quite admirable. 
I am struck by the gravity and decorum of the 
people generally — in outer behavior or gesture — 
though their language (among the lower castes) is 
by no means always select! But there is none, or 
very little, of that banter between the sexes which 
is common among the Western populations, and 
even among the boys and youths you see next to 
no frolicking or bear-fighting. I suppose it is part 



KURUN^GALA. 



47 



of the passivity and want of animal spirits which 
characterise the Hindu ; and of course the senti- 
ment of the relation between the sexes is different 
in some degree from what it is with us. On sexual 
matters generally, as far as I can make out, the 
tendency, even among the higher castes, is to be 




NATIVE STREET, AND SHOPS. 



outspoken, and there is little of that prudery which 
among us is only after all a modern growth. 

The town here is^ a queer mixture of primitive 
life with modern institutions. There are two or 
three little streets of booths, which constitute the 
" bazaar." Walking down these — where behind 
baskets of wares the interiors of the dwellings are 
often visible, and the processes of life are naively 



48 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

exposed to the eye — one may judge for one's self 
how little man wants here below. Here is a fruit 
and vegetable shop, with huge bunches of plantains 
or bananas, a hundred in a bunch, and selling at five 
or six a penny ; of a morning you may see the 
peasant coming in along the road carrying two such 
bunches — a good load — slung one at each end of 
a long pole, or piitgo, over his shoulder — a similar 
figure to that which is so frequent on the Egyptian 
monuments of 3,000 years ago ; pineapples, from 
\d. up to 4</. each for the very finest ; the bread- 
fruit, and its queer relation the enormous jack-fruit, 
weighing often as much as 12 to 14 lbs., with its 
pulpy and not very palatable interior, used so much 
by the people, growing high up over their cabins 
on the handsome jack-tree, and threatening you 
with instant dissolution if it descend upon your 
head ; the egg-plant, murngal, beans, potatos, and 
other vegetables; and plentiful ready- prepared 
packets of areca nut and betel leaf for chewing. 
Then there is a shop where they sell spices, pep- 
pers, chilis, and all such condiments for curries, not 
to mention baskets of dried fish (also for currying), 
which stink horribly and constitute one of the chief 
drawbacks of the bazaars ; and an earthenware 
shop, — and I must not forget the opium shop. Be- 
sides these there are only two others — and they 
represent Manchester and Birmingham respectively 
— one where they sell shoddy and much-sized cotton 
goods, and the other which displays tin ware, soap, 
matches, paraffin lamps, dinner knives, and all sorts 
of damnable cutlery. I have seen these knives and 
scissors, or such as these (made only to deceive), 



KURUN^GALA. 49 

being manufactured in the dens of Sheffield by boys 
and girls slaving in dust and dirt, breathing out 
their lives in foul air under the gaslights, hounded 
on by mean taskmasters and by the fear of imminent 
starvation. Dear children ! if you could only come 
out here yourselves, instead of sending the abomin- 
able work of your hands — come out here to enjoy 
this glorious sunshine, and fraternise, as I know 
many of you would, with the despised darkie ! 

The opium-seller is a friend of mine. I often 
go and sit in his shop — on his one chair. He 
teaches me Tamil — for he is a Tamil — and tells me 
long stories, slowly, word by word. He is a thin, 
soft-eyed, intelligent man, about thirty, has read a 
fair amount of English — of a friendly riant child- 
nature — not without a reasonable eye to the main 
chance, like some of his Northern cousins. There 
are a few jars of opium in its various forms — for 
smoking, drinking, and chewing ; a pair of scales 
to weigh it with ; a brass coconut-oil lamp with two 
or three wicks hanging overhead ; and a partition 
for the bed at the back, — and that is all. The shop- 
front is of course entirely open to the thronged 
street, except at night, when it is closed with shutter- 
boards. 

At the corner of the street stands a policeman, 
of course, else we should not know we were being 
civilised. But, O Lord, what a policeman ! How 
a London street arab would chuckle all over at the 
sight of him! Imagine the mild' and somewhat 
timid oyster dressed in a blue woollen serge suit 
(very hot for this climate), with a belt round his 
waist, some kind of turban on his head, a staff in, 

E 



50 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

his hand, and boots on his feet ! A real Hve oyster 
in boots ! It is too absurd. How miserable he 
looks ; and as to running after a criminal — the thing 
is not to be thought of. But no doubt the boots 
vindicate the majesty of the British Government. 

While we are gazing at this apparition, a gang of 
prisoners marches by — twenty lean creatures, with 
slouched straw hats on their heads, striped cotton 
jackets and pants, and bare arms and lower legs, 
each carrying a mattock — for they are going to work 
on the roads — and the whole gang followed and 
guarded (certainly Ceylon is a most idyllic land) by 
a CInghalese youth of about twenty-one, dressed In 
white skirts down to his feet, with a tortoise-shell 
comb on his head, and holding a parasol to shade 
himself from the sun. Why do not the twenty 
men with mattocks turn and slay the boy with the 
parasol, and so depart in peace '^, I asked this 
question many times, and always got the same 
answer. " Because," they said, " the prisoners do 
not particularly want to run away. They are very 
well off In prison, — better off, as a rule, than they 
are outside. Imprisonment by an alien Govern- 
ment, under alien laws and standards, is naturally no 
disgrace, at any rate to the mass of the people, and 
so once in prison they make themselves as happy as 
they can." 

I visited the gaol one day, and thought they 
succeeded very well In that respect. The authori- 
ties, I am glad to say, do all they can to make 
them comfortable. They have each a large dish 
of rice and curry, with meat if they wish, twice a 
day, and a meal of coffee and bread in the morning 



kurun:^gala. 5 1 

besides ; which is certainly better fare than they 
would get as peasants. They do their little apology 
for work in public places during the day — with a 
chance of a chat with friends — and sleep in gangs 
together in the prison sheds at night, each with his 
mat, pillow, and night suit ; so possibly on the 
whole they are not ill-content. 

My friend A , with whom I am staying here, 

Is a Tamil, and an official of high standing. He be- 
came thoroughly Anglicised while studying in Eng- 
land, and like many of the Hindus who come to 
London or Cambridge or Oxford, did for the time 
quite outwesternise us In the tendency towards 
materialism and the belief in science, ' comforts,' re- 
presentative institutions, and ' progress ' generally. 
Now however he seems to be undergoing a reaction 
In favor of caste and the religious traditions of his 
own people, and I am inclined to think that other 
westernising Hindus will experience the same re- 
action. 

He lives in an ordinary one-storied stone house, 
or bungalow, such as the English Inhabit here. 
These houses naturally cover a good deal of ground. 
The roof, which is made of heavy tiles or thatch, is 
pitched high in the middle, giving space for lofty 
sitting-rooms ; the sleeping chambers flank these at 
a lower slope, and outside runs the verandah, almost 
round the house, the roof terminating beyond it at 
six or seven feet from the ground. This arrange- 
ment makes the Interiors very dark and cool, as 
the windows open on the verandah, and the sun 
cannot penetrate to them ; but I am not sure that 
I like the sensation of being confined under this 



52 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

immense carapace of tiles, with no possible outlook 
to the sky, in a sort of cavernous twilight all the 
while. The verandah forms an easy means of 
access from one part to another, and in this house 
there are no passages in the interior, but the rooms 
all open into one another ; and plentiful windows — 
some mere Venetian shutters, without glass — ensure 
a free circulation of air. 

Mosquitos are a little trying. I don't think they 
are more venomous than the English gnat, but 
they are far 'cuter. The mosquito is the 'cutest 
little animal for its size that exists. I am certain 
from repeated observations that it watches ones eyes. 
If you look at it, it flies away. It settles on the 
under side of your hand (say when reading a book), 
or on your ankles when sitting at table — on any 
part in fact which is remote from observation; there 
is nothing that it loves better than for you to sit in 
a cane-bottomed chair. But it never attacks your 
face — and that is a curious thing — except when you 
are asleep. How it knows I cannot tell, but I have 
often noticed that it is so. If you close your eyes 
and pretend to be asleep, it will not come ; but as 
sure as you begin to drowse off you hear the ping 
of Its little wing as it swoops past your ear to your 
cheek. 

At night however the mosquito curtains keep 
one in safety, and I cannot say that I am much 
troubled during the day, except on occasions, and 
in certain places, as in the woods when there is no 
breeze. A. is a vegetarian, and I fancy diet has 
a good deal to do with freedom from irritation 
by insects and by heat. The thermometer reaches 



kurun:^gala. 53 

90° in the shade ahiiost every day here ; to sit and 
run at the same time is a gymnastic feat which one 
can easily perform, and at night it is hot enough to 
sleep without any covering on the bed ; but I enjoy 
the climate thoroughly, and never felt in better 
health. No doubt these things oftTen affect one 
more after a time than at first; but there seems 
almost always a pleasant breeze here at this time of 
year, and I do not notice that languor which gene- 
rally accompanies sultry weather. 

A. has most lovely vegetable curries ; plenty of 
boiled rice, with four or five little dishes of different 
sorts of curried vegetables. This, with fruit, forms our 
breakfast — at ten ; and dinner at six or seven is 
much the same, with perhaps an added soup or side- 
dish. His wife sometimes joins us at dinner, which 
I take as an honor, as even with those Hindu 
women who are emancipated there is often a little 
reserve about eating^ with the foreigner. She has 

o o 

a very composed and gentle manner, and speaks 
English prettily and correctly, though slowly and 
with a little hesitation ; approves of a good deal of 
the English freedom for women, but says she can- 
not quite reconcile herself to women walking about 
the streets alone, and other things she hears they 
do in England. However, she would like to come 
to England herself and see. 

The children are very bright and charming. 
Maheswari (three years old) is the sweetest little 
dot, with big black eyes and a very decided opinion 
about things. She comes into the room and lifts up 
one arm and turns up her face and prophesies some- 
thing in solemn tones in Tamil, which turns out to 



54 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

be, '' Father Is very naughty to sit down to dinner 
before mother comes." Then she talks Cinghalese 
to her nurse and English to me, which is pretty 
good for a beginner In life. Mahadeva and Jayanta, 
the two boys (seven and nine respectively), are in 
the bubbling- over stage, and are alternately fast 
friends and fighting with each other two or three 
times a day, much like English boys. They are 
dressed more after the English fashion, though they 
are privileged to have bare knees and feet — at any 
rate In the house ; and Jayanta has a pony which he 
rides out every day. 

A. sets apart a little room in this house as a 
"chapel." It Is quite bare, with just a five-wicked 
lamp on a small table In one corner, and flowers, 
fruit, etc., on the ground In front. I was present 
the other day when the Brahman priest was per- 
forming a little service there. He recited San- 
skrit formulas, burned camphor, and gave us cow- 
dung ashes and sandalwood paste to put on our 
foreheads, consecrated milk to drink, and a flower 
each. The cowdung ashes are a symbol. For as 
cowdung, when burnt, becomes clean and even puri- 
fying In quality, so must th^ body Itself be con- 
sumed and purified in the flame of Siva's presence. 
A. says they use a gesture identifying the light (of 
Siva) within the body with the light of the flame, and 
also with that of the sun ; and always terminate their 
worship by going out into the open and saluting the 
sun. The Brahman priest, a man about forty, and 
the boy of fifteen who often accompanies him, are 
pleasant-faced folk, not apparently at all highly 
educated, wearing but little in the way of clothes, 



KURUNJ^GALA. 55 

and not specially distinguishable from other people, 
except by the sacred thread worn over the shoulder, 
and a certain alertness of expression which is often 
noticeable in the Brahman — though the trouble is 
that It is generally alertness for gain. 

The priests generally here, whether Buddhist or 
Hindu (and Buddhism is of course the prevailing 
religion in Ceylon), occupy much the same relation 
to the people which the priests occupy in the country 
districts of France or Ireland — that Is, whatever 
spiritual power they claim, they do not arrogate to 
themselves any worldly supremacy, and are always 
poor and often quite unlettered. In fact I suppose 
it is only in the commercially religious, i.e. Pro- 
testant, countries that the absurd anomaly exists of a 
priesthood which pretends to the service of the Jesus 
who had not where to lay his head, and which at 
the same time openly claims to belong to *' society " 
and the well-to-do classes, and would resent any 
imputation to the contrary. There are indeed many 
points of resemblance between the religions here — 
especially Hinduism — and Roman Catholicism: the 
elaborate ceremonials and services, with processions, 
incense, lights, ringing of bells, etc. ; the many 
mendicant orders, the use of beads and rosaries, 
and begging bowls, the monasteries with their 
abbots, and so forth. 

There is one advantage in a hot damp climate 
like this ; namely that things — books, furniture, 
clothes, etc. — soon get destroyed and done with, so 
that there is little temptation to cumber up your 
house with possessions. Some English of course 
try to furnish and keep their rooms as If they were 



56 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



still living in Bayswater, but they are plentifully 
plagued for their folly. The floors here are of some 
cement or concrete material, which prevents the 
white ants surging up through them, as they in- 
fallibly would through boards, and which is nice and 







VEDDAHS. 
(^Aborigines of Ceylon.) 



cool to the feet ; carpets, cupboards, and all collec- 
tions of unremoved things are discountenanced. A 
chest of drawers or a bookcase stands out a foot or 
two from the wall, so that the servants can sweep 
behind it every day. Little frogs, lizards, scorpions, 
and other fry, which come hopping and creeping in 



KURUNEGALA. 57 

during or after heavy rain can then be gently 
admonished to depart, and spiders do not find it 
easy to estabHsh a footing. The greatest harbor 
for vermin is the big roof, which is full of rats. In 
pursuit of these come the rat-snakes, fellows five or 
six feet long, but not venomous, and wild cats ; and 
the noises at night from them, the shuffling of the 
snakes, and the squeals of the poor little rats, etc., 
I confess are trying. 

We have three or four male servants about the 
house and garden, and there are two ayahs, who look 
after the children and the women's apartments. I 
believe many of these Indian and Cinghalese races 
love to be servants (under a tolerably good master) ; 
their feminine sensitive natures, often lacking in 
enterprise, rather seek the shelter of dependence. 
And certainly they make, in many instances and 
when well treated, wonderfully good servants, their 
tact and affectionateness riveting the bond. I 
know of a case in which an English civilian met with 
an accident when 200 miles away from his station, 
and his '' bearer," when he heard the news, in 
default of other means of communication, walked the 
whole distance, and arrived in time to see him before 
he died. At the same time it is a mistake to sup- 
pose they will do anything out of a sense of duty. 
The word duty doesn't occupy an important place 
in the Oriental vocabulary, no more than it does 
among the Celtic peoples of Europe. This is a 
fruitful source of misunderstanding between the 
races. The Britisher pays his Indian servant regu- 
larly, and in return expects him to do his duty, and 
to submit to kicks when he doesn't. He, the 



58 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

Britisher, regards this as a fair contract. But the 
oyster doesn't understand it in the least. He would 
rather receive his pay less regularly, and be treated 
as " a man and a brother." Haeckel's account of the 
affection of his Rodiya servant-lad for him, and of 
the boy's despair when Haeckel had to leave him, 
is quite touching ; but it is corroborated by a 
thousand similar stories. But if there is no attach- 
ment, what is the meaning of duty ? The oyster, 
in keeping with his weaker, more dependent nature, 
is cunning and lazy — his vices lie in that direction 
rather than in the Western direction of brutal energy. 
If his attachment is not called out, he can make his 
master miserable in his own way. And he does so; 
hence endless strife and recrimination. 

The Arachchi here, a kind of official servant of 
A.'s, is a most gentle creature, with remarkable tact, 
but almost too sensitive; one is afraid of wounding 
him by not accepting all his numerous attentions. 
He glides in and out of the room — as they all do 
— noiselessly, with bare feet ; and one never knows 
whether one is alone or not. The horse-keeper 
and I are good friends, though our dialogues are 
limited for want of vocabulary ! He is a regular 
dusky demon, with his look of affectionate bedevil- 
ment and way of dissolving in a grin whenever he 
sees one. A. says that he thinks the pariahs, or 
outcastes — and the horse-keepers are pariahs — are 
some of the most genuine and good-hearted among 
the people ; and I see that the author oi Life in an 
Indian Village says something of the same kind. 
*' As a class, hardworking, honest, and truthful," he 
calls them ; and after describing their devotion to 



KURUN^GALA. 59 

the interests of the famlHes to whom they are often 
hereditarily attached, adds, '' Such are the illiterate 
pariahs, a unique class, whose pure lives and noble 
traits of character are in every way worthy of admi- 
ration." 

It is curious, but I am constantly being struck 
by the resemblance between the lowest castes here 
and the slum-dwellers in our great cities — resem- 
blance in physiognomy, as well as in many uncon- 
scious traits of character, often very noble ; with the 
brutish basis well-marked, the unformed mouth, and 
the somewhat heavy brows, just as in Meunier s fine 
statue of the ironworker (" puddleur "), but with 
thicker lips. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Adam's peak and the black river. 

Jamiary \st, 1891. — Sitting by an impromptu wood- 
fire in a little hut on the summit of Adam's Peak — 
nearly midnight — a half-naked Caliban out of the 
woods squatting beside me, and Kalua and the 
guide sleeping on the floor. But I And it too cold 
to sleep, and there is no furniture in the hut. 

Altogether an eventful New Year's day. Last 
night I spent at Kandy with Kalua and his brother 
in their little cabin. They were both very friendly, 
and I kept being reminded of Herman Melville and 
his Marquesas Island experiences — so beautiful the 
scene, the moon rising about ten, woods and valleys 
all around — the primitive little hut, Kirrah cook- 
ing over a fire on the ground, etc. We were up 
by moon and starlight at 5 a.m., and by walking, 
driving, and the railway, reached Muskeliya at the 
foot of the peak by 2.30 p.m. There we got a guide 
—a very decent young Tamil — and reached here by 
7.30 or 8 p.m. Our path lay at first through tea- 
gardens, and then leaving them, it went in nearly 
a direct line straight up the mountain side — per- 
haps 3,000 feet — through dense woods, in step-like 
formation, over tree-roots and up the rocks, worn 
and hacked into shape through successive centuries 
by innumerable pilgrims, but still only wide enough 



Adam's peak and the black river. 6i 

for one. Night came upon us on the way, and the 
last hour or two we had to Hght torches to see our 
route. Elephant tracks were plentiful all round us 
through the woods, even close to the summit. It 
is certainly extraordinary on what steep places and 
rock sides these animals will safely travel ; but we 
were not fortunate enough to see any of them. 

This is a long night trying to sleep. It is the 
wretchedest hut, without a door, and unceiled to 
the four winds ! Caliban makes the fire for me as 
I write. He has nothing on but a cotton wrap and 
a thin jersey, but does not seem to feel the cold 
much ; and the guide is even more thinly clad, and 
is asleep, while I am shivering, bundled in cloth 
coats. There is something curious about the way 
in which the English in this country feel the cold — 
when it is cold — more than the natives ; though 
one might expect the contrary. I have often 
noticed it. I fancy we make a great mistake in 
these hot lands in not exposing our skins more to 
the sun and air, and so strengthening and harden- 
ing them. In the great heat, and when constantly 
covered with garments, the skin perspires terribly, 
and becomes sodden and enervated, and more sensi- 
tive than it ought to be — hence great danger of 
chills. I have taken several sun-baths in the woods 
here at different times, and found advantage from 
doing so. 

[Since writing the above, I have discovered the 
existence of a little society in India — of English 
folk — who encourage nudity, and the abandonment 
as far as possible of clothes, on three distinct 
grounds — physical, moral, and aesthetic — of Health, 



62 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. . 

Decency, and Beauty. I wish the society every suc- 
cess. Its chief object, as given in its rules, is to 
urge upon people *' to be and go stark naked when- 
ever suitable," and it is a sine qitd non that members 
should appear at all Its meetings without any cover- 
inof. Passinor over the moral and aesthetic considera- 
tions — which are both of course of the utmost 
importance in this connection — there is still the con- 
sideration of physical health and enjoyment, which 
must appeal to everybody. In a place like India, 
where the mass of the people go with very little 
covering, the spectacle of their ease and enjoyment 
must double the discomforts of the unfortunate Euro- 
pean who thinks it necessary to be dressed up to the 
eyes on every occasion when he appears in public. 
It is indeed surprising that men can endure, as they 
do, to wear cloth coats and waistcoats and starched 
collars and cuffs, and all the paraphernalia of pro- 
priety, in a severity of heat which really makes only 
the very lightest covering tolerable ; nor can one 
be surprised at the exhaustion of the system which 
ensues, from the cause already mentioned. In fact 
the direct stimulation and strengthening of the skin 
by sun and air, though most important in our home 
climate, may be even more indispensable in a place 
like India, where the relaxing influences are so ter- 
ribly strong. Certainly, when one considers this 
cause of English enervation in India, and the other 
due to the greatly mistaken diet of our people there, 
the fearful quantities of flesh consumed, and of 
strong liquors — both things which are injurious 
enough at home, but which are ruinous in a hot 
country — the wonder is not that the English fail to 



Adam's peak and the black river. 6 



o 



breed and colonise in India, but that they even last 
out their few years of individual service there.] 

There is a lovely view of cloudland from the 
summit now the moon has risen. All the lower 
lands and mountains are wrapped in mist, and you 
look down upon a great white rolling sea, silent, 
remote from the world, with only the moon and 
stars above, and the sound of the Buddhist priests 
chanting away in a low tone round the fire in their 
own little cabin or pansela. 

This is a most remarkable mountain. For at least 
2,000 years, and probably for long enough before 
that, priests of some kind or another have kept watch 
over the sacred footmark on the summit ; for thou- 
sands of years the sound of their chanting has been 
heard at night between the driven white plain of 
clouds below and the silent moon and stars above ; 
and by day pilgrims have toiled up the steep sides 
to strew flowers, and to perform some kind of wor- 
ship to their gods, on this high natural altar. The 
peak is 7,400 feet high, and though not quite the 
highest point in the island, is by far the most con- 
spicuous. It stands like a great outpost on the 
south-west edge of the mountain region of Ceylon, 
and can be seen from far out to sea^a sugar-loaf 
with very precipitous sides. When the Buddhists 
first came to Ceylon, about the 4th century b.c, 
they claimed the footmark as that of Buddha. Later 
on some Gnostic Christian sects attributed it to 
the primal man ; the Mahomedans, following this 
idea, when they got possession of the mountain, 
gave it the name of Adam's Peak ; the Portuguese 
consecrated it to S. Eusebius ; and now the Bud- 



64 p^ROM Adam's peak to elefhanta. 

dhists are again In possession — though I believe the 
Mahomedans are allowed a kind of concurrent right. 
But whatever has been the nominal dedication of 
this ancient '' high place," a continuous stream of 
pilgrims —mainly of course the country folk of the 
island — has flowed to it undisturbed through the 
centuries ; and even now they say that in the month 
of May the mountain side is covered by hundreds 
and even thousands of folk, who camp out during 
the night, and do poojah on the summit by day. 
Kalua says that his father — the jolly old savage 
— once ascended " Samantakuta," and like the rest 
of the CInghalese thinks a great deal of the re- 
ligious merit of this performance. 

Ratnaptira, Jan. '}^rd. — Sunrise yesterday on the 
peak was fine, though " sunrises " are not always a 
success. The great veil of clouds gradually dis- 
solved, and a long level " rose of dawn " appeared 
in the eastern sky— Venus brilliant above it, the 
Southern Cross visible, and one or two other crosses 
which lie near it, and the half moon overhead ; a 
dark, peaked and castellated rampart of lower moun- 
tains stretched around us, and far on the horizon 
were masses of cumulus cloud rising out of the low- 
land mists, and catching the early light ; while the 
lower lands themselves remained partly hidden by 
irregular pools and rivers of w^hite fog, which looked 
like water in the first twilight. A great fan-like 
crown of rays preceded the sun, very splendid, of 
pearly colors, with great beams reaching nearly to 
the zenith. We could not see the sea, owing to 
mists along the horizon, nor was any habitation 
visible, but only the great jungle-covered hills and 



Adam's peak and the black river. 65 

far plains shrouded in the green of coco- nut 
groves. 

The shadow of the peak itself, cast on the mists 
at sunrise, is a very conspicuous and often- noted 
phenomenon. Owing to the sun's breadth, the effect 
is produced of an M7nbra and penumbra ; and the 
umbra looks very dark and pointed — ^more pointed 
even than the peak itself. I was surprised to see 
how distant it looked — a shadow-mountain among 
the far crags. It gradually fell and disappeared as 
the sun rose. 

There is another phenomenon which 1 have 
somewhere seen described as peculiar to Adam's 
Peak ; though this must be a pious fraud, or one of 
those cases of people only being able to see familiar 
things when they are in unfamiliar surroundings, 
since it is a phenomenon which can be witnessed 
any day at home. It is that if when there is dew 
or rain upon the grass, and the sun is not too high 
in the heavens, you look at the shadow of your head 
on the grass, you will see it surrounded by a white 
light, or ' glory.' It arises, I imagine, from the 
direct reflection of the sunlight on the inner sur- 
faces of the little globules of water which lie in or 
near the line joining the sun and the head, and is 
enhanced no doubt by the fact that the light so 
reflected shows all the clearer from having to pass 
through a column of shadow to the eye. Anyhow, 
whatever the cause, it is quite a flattering appear- 
ance, all the more so because if you have a com- 
panion you do not see the ' glory ' round his head, 
but only round your own ! I once nearly turned 
the strong brain of a Positivist by pointing out to 

F 



66 FROM adam's peak to elephanta. 

him this aureole round his head, and making as If I 
could see it. He of course, being unable to see a 
similar light round mine, had no alternative but to 
conclude that he was specially overshadowed by the 
Holy Ghost ! 

The sripada — ''sacred foot" — Is better than I ex- 
pected : a natural depression In the rock, an Inch or 
so deep, five feet long,^ of an oblong shape, and 
distantly resembling a foot ; but they have " im- 
proved " it In parts by mortaring bits of tile along 
the doubtful edges ! There are no toes marked, 
though In " copies " of It that I have seen In some 
Buddhist shrines the toes are carefully indicated. 
The mark Is curiously situated at the very summit 
of the rock — which is only a few feet square, only 
large enough, in fact, to give space for the foot and 
for a little pavilion, open to the winds, which has 
been erected over It ; and on the natural platform 
just below — which (so steep is the mountain) is itself 
encircled by a wall to prevent accidents — are some 
curious bits of furniture : four old bronze standard 
lamps, of lotus-flower design, one at each corner of 
the platform, a bell, a little shrine, and the priests' 
hut before mentioned. Looking Into the latter 
after dawn, I beheld nothing resembling furniture, 
but a pan in the middle with logs burning, and three 
lean figures squatted round It, their mortal posses- 
sions tied in handkerchiefs and hanging from the 
roof. 

The priests were horribly on the greed for 
money, and made It really unpleasant to stay on 

^ Captain Knox, above quoted, speaks of it as "about two feet 
long " ; but he does not appear to have actually seen it. 



Adam's peak and the black river. 67 

the top ; but I delayed a little In order to watch 
Caliban doing poojah at the little shrine I have 
mentioned. He brought a hot ember from the 
fire, sprinkled frankincense on it, burned camphor 
and something that looked like saltpetre, also 
poured some kind of scented water on the ember, 
causing fragrance. Very ancient gnarled rhododen- 
dron trees, twenty or thirty feet high, rooting in 
clefts and hollows, were in flower (carmine red) all 
round the top of the rock. No snow ever falls here, 
they say ; but there are sometimes hoar frosts, which 
the natives mistake for snow. I don't suppose the 
temperature that night was below 50° Fahr., but it 
felt cold, very cold, after the heat of the lowlands. 

The sun rose soon after six, and at 7.30 we 
started downwards, on the great pilgrim-track 
towards Ratnapura. The final cone, for about 1,500 
feet, is certainly a steep bit of rock. I have seen it 
from several points of view, but the summit angle 
was always under 90°. Steps are cut nearly all 
down this part, and chains hang alongside In all 
places of possible difficulty — chains upon chains, 
things with links six inches long, all shapes and 
curiously wrought, centuries and centuries old — the 
pious gifts of successive generations of pilgrims. 
Here and there are long inscriptions. In Cinghalese 
characters, on the rock-faces ; and everywhere signs 
of Innumerable labor of successive travelers In 
hewing and shaping the path all the way — not to 
mention resting-sheds and cabins built In convenient 
spots lower down. These however are largely 
fallen to decay ; and indeed the whole place gives 
one the Impression that the sripada has come some- 



68 FROM Adam's peak to elepiianta. 

what Into disrepute In these modern times, and Is 
only supported by the poorer and more Ignorant 
among the people. 

Ratnapura Is only 1 50 feet or so above the sea ; 
and for twenty- four miles the path to It from the 
summit — well-marked but single file — goes down 
over rocks and through vast woods, without coming 
to anything like a road. Nearly the whole, how- 
ever, of this great descent of 7,000 feet Is done In 
the first twelve miles to Palabaddala — a tiny hamlet 
at the very foot of the mountains — and I don't know 
that I ever felt a descent so fatiguing as this one, 
partly no doubt owing to the experiences of the 
day and night before, and partly no doubt to the 
enervation produced by the climate and want of 
exercise ; but the path Itself Is a caution, and the 
ascent of It must Indeed be a pilgrimage, with Its 
huge steps and strides from rock to rock and from 
tree-root to tree-root, and going, as It does, almost 
straight up and down the mountain side, without 
the long zigzags and detours by which In such 
cases the brunt Is usually avoided. All the same 
It was very Interesting ; the upper jungle of rhodo- 
dendrons, myrtles, and other evergreen foliage form- 
ing a splendid cover for elephants, and clothing the 
surrounding peaks and crags for miles in grey-green 
wrinkles and folds, with here and there open grassy 
spaces and glades and tumbling watercourses ; then 
the vegetation of the lower woods, huge trees 150 
or even 200 feet high, with creepers, orchids, and 
tree-ferns ; the occasional rush of monkeys along 
the branches ; butterflies and birds ; thick under- 
growth In parts, of daturas, polntsettias, crotons. 



Adam's peak and the black river. 69 

and other fragrant and bright- colored shrubs ; 
down at last into coco-nut plantations and to the 
lovely Kaluganga, or Black river, which we forded 
twice ; and ultimately along its banks, shadowed by 
bamboos and many flowering trees. 

Although, curiously enough, the fig is not grown 
as a fruit in Ceylon, yet the Jicus is one of the most 
important families of trees here, and many of the 
forest trees belong to it. There is one very hand- 
some variety, whose massive grey stem rises un- 
broken to a great height before it branches, and 
which in order to support itself throws out great 
lateral wings or buttresses, reaching to a height of 
twelve or twenty feet from the ground, and spread- 
ing far out from the base of the trunk, — each buttress 
perhaps three or four inches thick, and perfectly 
shaped, with plane and parallel sides like a sawn 
plank, so as to give the utmost strength with least 
expenditure of material. This variety has small 
ovate evero^reen leaves. Then there are two or 
three varieties, of which the banyan [ficus Indicd) 
is one, w4iich are parasitic in their habit. The 
banyan begins existence by its seed being dropped 
in the fork of another tree — not unfrequently a 
palm — from w^hich point its rootlets make their way 
down the stem to the ground. With rapid growth it 
then encircles the victim tree, and throwing out 
great lateral branches sends down from these a 
rain of fresh rootlets which, after swinging in air 
for a few weeks, reach the ground and soon become 
sturdy pillars. I have thus seen a banyan en- 
circling with its central trunk the stem of a palm, 
and clasping it so close that a knife could not be 



JO FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

pushed between the two, while the palm, which had 
grown in height since this accident happened to it, 
was still soaring upwards, and feebly endeavoring 
to live. There is a very fine banyan tree at Kalu- 
tara, which spans the great high-road from Colombo 
to Galle, all the traffic passing beneath it and 
between its trunks. 

Some of the figs fasten parasitically on other 
trees, though without throwing out the pillar-like 
roots which distinguish the banyan ; and it is not 
uncommon to see one of these with roots like a 
cataract of snakes windincr round the trunk of an 
acacia, or even round some non-parasitic fig, the 
two trees appearing to be wrestling and writhing 
together in a fierce embrace, while they throw out 
their separate branches to sun and air, as though to 
gain strength for the fray. The parasite generally 
however ends by throttling its adversary. 

There is also the bo-tree, or ficus 7^eligzosa, whose 
leaf is of a thinner texture. One of the commonest 
plants in open spots all over Ceylon is the sensitive 
plant. Its delicately pinnate leaves form a bushy 
growth six inches to a foot in depth over the 
ground ; but a shower of rain, or nightfall, or the 
trampling of animals through it causes it to collapse 
into a mere brown patch — almost as if a fire had 
passed over. In a few minutes however after the 
disturbance has ceased it regains its luxuriance. 
There are also some acacia trees which droop their 
leaves at nightfall, and at the advent of rain. 

There are two sorts of monkeys common in these 
forests — a small brown monkey, which may be seen 
swinging itself from tree to tree, not unfrequendy 



ADAM S PEAK AND THE BLACK RIVER. 7 1 

with a babe In its arms ; and the larger wanderoo 
monkey, which skips and runs on all-fours along the 
ground, and of which it is said that its devotion to 
its mate is life-long. Very common all over Ceylon 
is a little grey-brown squirrel, with three yellow 
longitudinal stripes on its back ; almost every tree 
seems to be inhabited by a pair, which take refuge 
there at the approach of a stranger, and utter a 
sharp little whistle like the note of an angry bird. 
They are very tame however, and will often in 
inhabited places run about the streets, or even make 
their appearance in the houses in search of food. 

The Hindus take no pleasure in killing animals — 
even the boys do not, as a rule, molest wild crea- 
tures — and the consequence is that birds and the 
smaller four-footed beasts are comparatively bold. 
Not that the animals are made pets of, but they 
are simply let alone — in keeping with the Hindu 
gentleness and quiescence of disposition. Even 
the deadly cobra — partly no doubt from religious 
associations — is allowed to go its way unharmed ; 
and the people have generally a good word for It, 
saying it will not attack any one unless it be first 
injured. 

On the whole the trouble about reptiles In this 
country seems to me to be much exaggerated. 
There are some places in the forests where small 
leeches — particularly In the wet seasons — are a great 
pest. Occasionally a snake Is to be seen, but I 
have been rather disappointed at their rarity ; or 
a millipede nine inches long. The larger scorpion 
Is a venomous-looking creature, with its blue-black 
lobster- like body and claws, and slender sting- 



72 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

surmounted tail, five Inches long in all ; but it is not 
so venomous as generally supposed, and most of 
these creatures, like the larger animals — the chetah, 
the elk, the bear, the elephant, etc. — keep out of 
the way of man as well as they can. Of course 
native woodmen and others tramping bare-legged 
through the tangles occasionally tread on a snake 
and get bitten ; but the tale of deaths through such 
casualties, though it may seem numerically large, 
taken say throughout Ceylon and India, is in pro- 
portion to the population but a slight matter — 
about I in 15,000 per annum. 

There are many handsome butterflies here, es- 
pecially of the swallow-tail sort — some of enormous 
size — and a number of queer insects. I saw a 
large green mantis, perhaps six inches long — a most 
wicked-looking creature. I confess it reminded me 
of a highly respectable British property owner. It 
sits up like a beautiful green leaf, with its two fore- 
claws (themselves flattened out and green to look 
like lesser leaves) held up as if it were praying — 
perfectly motionless — except that all the time it 
rolls its stalked eyes slowly around, till it sees a poor 
little insect approach, when it stealthily moves a 
claw, and pounces. 

The birds are not so numerous as I expected. 
There are some bright-colored kinds and a few 
parrots, but the woods seem quiet on the whole. 
The barbet, a green bird not quite so big as a 
pigeon, goes on with its monotonous bell-like call — 
like a cuckoo that has lost its second note — on and 
on, the whole day long ; the lizards cluck and kiss, 
full of omens to the natives, who call them " the 



ADAMS PEAK AND THE BLACK RIVER. "] T^ 

crocodile's little brothers " — and say " if you kill a 
little lizard the crocodile will come and kill you " 
the grasshoppers give three clicks and a wheeze 
the small grey squirrels chirrup ; the frogs croak 
and the whole air is full of continuous though sub- 
dued sound. 

At Palabaddala, the tiny little hamlet at the foot 
of the mountains, I was dead-beat with the long 
jolting downhill, and if it had not been for the faith- 
ful Kalua, who held my hand in the steeper parts, I 
should fairly have fallen once or twice. Here we 
stopped two hours at a little cabin. Good people 
and friendly — a father and mother and two lads — 
the same anxious, tender mother-face that is the 
same all over the world. They brought out a kind 
of couch for me to lie on, but would not at first be- 
lieve that I would eat their food. However, after a 
little persuasion they made some tea (for the people 
are beginning to use tea quite freely) and some curry 
and rice — quite palatable. I began to eat of course 
with my fingers, native fashion ; but as soon as I did 
so, they saw that something was wrong, and raised a 
cry oi Karandi / (spoon); and a boy was sent off, 
despite my protests, to the cabin of a rich neighbor 
half a mile off, and ultimately returned in triumph 
with a rather battered German-silver teaspoon ! 

I felt doubtful about doing another twelve miles 
to Ratnapura ; however thought best to try, and off 
we went. But the rest had done little good, and 
I could not go more than two miles an hour. At 
4 p.m., after walking about four miles, we came 
out into flat land — a good path, little villages with 
clumps of palm and banana, lovely open meadows, 



74 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

and tame buffalos grazing. Thence along the side 
of the Kaluganga, most lovely of rivers, through 
thickets of bamboo and tangles of shrubs, and past 
more hamlets and grazing grounds (though feeling 
so done, I thoroughly enjoyed every step of the 
way), till at last at a little kind of shop {kadai) 
we halted, about 6 p.m. Got more tea, and a few 
bananas, which was all I cared to eat ; and then 
went in and lay down on a trestle and mat for an 
hour, after which we decided to stay the night. 
Kalua stretched himself near me ; the men of the 
place lay down on the floor — the women somewhere 
inside ; the plank shutters were built in, and lights 
put out. I slept fairly well, and woke finally at the 
sound of voices and with dawn peeping in through 
the holes in the roof. Had a lovely wash in a 
little stream, and an early breakfast of tea, bananas, 
and hot cakes made of rice, coco-nut, and sugar — 
and then walked four miles into this place (Rat- 
napura), where at last we came to a road and signs 
of civilisation. 

The rest-house here is comfortable ; have had 
another bath, and a good solid breakfast, and made 
arrangements for a boat to start with us this evening 
down the river to Kalutara (60 miles). 

Sunday, Jan. /\th. — After walking round the town 
yesterday, and getting fruit and provisions for our 
voyage, we embarked about 6 p.m., and are now 
floating lazily down the Kaluganga. The water is 
rather low, and the speed not good ; but the river 
is very beautiful, with bamboos, areca-palms, and 
other trees, leaning over in profusion. 

Ratnapura (the city of jewels) is only a small 



ADAMS PEAK AND THE BLACK RIVER. 75 

town— hardly so big as Kurunegala — just about one 
long street of little booths and cabins, a post-office, 
court-house and cutcherry, and the usual two or 
three bungalows of the English agent and officials 
standing back in park-like grounds in a kind of 
feudal reserve. The town derives its name from 
the trade in precious stones which has been carried 
on here for long enough — rubies, sapphires, and 
others being found over a great part of the moun- 
tain district. In perhaps half the little shops of 
Ratnapura men and boys may be seen squatted on 
the floor grinding and polishing jewels. With one 
hand they use a bow to turn their wheels, and with 
the other they hold the stone in position. The 
jewels are also set and offered for sale — often at 
Avhat seem very low prices. But the purchaser must 
beware ; for the blessings of modern commerce are 
with us even here, and many of these precious stones 
are bits of stained glass supplied wholesale from 
Birmingham. 

This boat, which is of a type common on the 
river, consists of two canoes or "dug-outs," each 
twenty feet long, and set five or six feet apart from 
each other, with a flooring laid across them, and a 
little thatched cabin constructed amidships. The 
cabin is for cooking and sleeping — a fire and cook- 
ing pots at one end, and mats laid at the other. At 
the front end of the boat sit the two rowers, and the 
steersman stands behind. We have a skipper and 
four crew (an old man, Djayanis ; a middle-aged 
man, Signapu ; and two lads, Duanis and Thoranis). 
The name of the skipper is Pedri. About two miles 
below Ratnapura we drew to the shore and stopped 



76 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



below a temple ; and Pedrl and the old man went 
up to offer money for a favorable voyage ! They 
w^ashed a few coppers in the river, wrapped them in 
a bo-tree leaf, which had also been washed, sprinkled 
water on their foreheads, and then went up. They 
soon came back, and then we started. 

Hardly any signs of habitation along the river. 
Now and then rude steps down to the shore, and a 








RICE-BOATS ON THE KALUGANGA. 
(A clump of bamboos on the right.') 



dark figure pouring water on its own head. The 
river varying, a hundred yards, more or less, wide. 
At about seven it got too dark and we halted 
against a sandbank, waiting for the moon to rise, 
and had dinner — rice, curried eggs, and beans, and 
a pineapple — very good. Then got out and sat on 
the sand, while the boys lighted a fire. Very fine, 
the gloom on the tall fringed banks, gleams from 
the fire, voices of children far back among the woods, 



ADAMS PEAK AND THE BLACK RIVER. ']'] 

playing in some village. After a time we went 
back on board again, and sat round teaching each 
other to count, and laughing at our mistakes — ekkai, 
dekkai, tonai, hattarai — one, two, three, four. The 
Cinghalese language (unlike the Tamil) is full of 
Aryan roots — minya, man ; gdni, woman ; and so 
on. The small boy Thoranis (12 years) learnt 
his '' one two three " in no time; he is pretty sharp ; 
he does the cooking, and prepares our meals, taking 
an oar between times. The man Pedri seemed 
good to the lads, and they all enjoyed themselves 
till they got sleepy and lay in a row and snored. 

Started again at moonrise, about midnight ; after 
which I went to sleep till six or so, then went 
ashore and had a bath — water quite warm. Then 
off again ; a few slight rapids, but nothing much. 
We go aground every now and then ; but these boats 
are so tough — the canoes themselves being hollowed 
trees — that a bump even on a rock does not seem 
to matter much. The lads quite enjoy the struggle 
getting over a sandbank, and Duanis jumps down 
from his perch and plunges through the water with 
evident pleasure. The old man Djayanis steers — 
a shrewd-faced calm thin fellow, almost like a North 
American Indian, but no beak. See a monkey or 
a kite occasionally ; no crocodiles in this part of the 
river, above the rapids ; some large and handsome 
kingfishers, and the fruit-crow, whose plumage is 
something like that of a pheasant. 

Kalua enjoys the voyage. It suits his lazy sociable 
temperament, and he chats away to Pedri and the 
crew no end. His savage strength and insouciance 
are splendid. All over Adam's Peak he walked 



'^S FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

barefoot, with no more sign of fatigue than If It had 
been a walk round a garden, — would lie down and 
sleep anywhere, or not sleep, eat or not eat, endure 
cold or heat with apparent indifference ; yet though 
so complete a savage physically, it is interesting to 
see what an attraction for him civilisation, or the 
little he has seen of it, exerts. He is always asking 
me about Europe, and evidently dreaming about its 
wealth and splendor. All the modern facilities and 
inventions are sort of wonderful toys to this child 
of nature ; and though I think he is attached to me, 
and is no doubt of an affectionate disposition, still it 
is partly that I am mixed up in his mind with all 
these things. I tried one day to find out from 
K. his idea of god or devil, or supreme power of 
any kind ; but in vain. His mind wandered to 
things more tangible. Many of the Cinghalese 
however have rather a turn for speculations of this 
kind ; and at one hotel where I was staying the 
chamber-servant entertained me with quite a dis- 
course on Buddha, and ended by ridiculing the 
Christian idea that a man can get rid of the results 
of sin by merely praying to God or believing in 
Jesus. 

We have now passed the ndrraka-gdla (bad rock) 
rapid, which is about half-way down the river, and 
is the only rapid which has looked awkward, the 
river narrowing to five or six yards between rocks, 
and plunging over at a decided slope. We went 
through with a great bump, but no damage ! The 
sun and smells on board are getting rather trying ; 
this dried-fish smell unfortunately haunts one wher- 
ever there are native cabins. But we shall not be 



ADAMS PEAK AND THE BLACK RIVER. 79 

long now before reaching my landing-place, a little 
above Kalutara. 

There are a good many boats like ours on the 
river, some laden with rice going down, others poling 
upwards — sometimes whole families on the move. 
Quantities of ragged white lilies fringing the shore. 

Jan. 6th. — Kalua and I left our friends and their 
boat in the afternoon, and spent Sunday night at 
P 's bungalow. P. is manager of a tea plan- 
tation — a bit of a Robinson Crusoe, living all by 
himself — native servants of course — with two dogs, 
a cat, and a jackdaw (and at one time a hare !) 
sharing his meals. Some of these planter-fellows 
must find the life a little dreary I fancy, living iso- 
lated on their plantations at a considerable distance 
from European neighbors, with very small choice 
of society at the best, and prevented no doubt by 
their position from associating too closely with the 
only folk who are near them — their own employees. 
The more kindly-hearted among them however do 
a good deal for their workers in the way of physick- 
ing and nursing them when ill or disabled, advising 
them when in difficulties, etc. ; and in these cases the 
natives, with their instinct of dependence, soon learn 
to lean like children on their employer, and the latter 
finds himself, after a few years, the father (so to 
speak) of a large family. There are 200 Tamil 
coolies permanently employed on this plantation, and 
a hundred or two besides, mostly girls and women, 
who come In to work when wanted from neighbor- 
ing CInghalese villages. 

But the system, like the commercial system wher- 
ever It Is found to-day. Is pretty bad and odious In 



8o 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



itself, and Is no doubt In many cases a cover for 
shameful abuses. The Tamil coolies — men, women, 
and children — come over in gangs from the mainland 
of India. An agent is sent out to tout for them, and 
to conduct them by sea and land to their destina- 
tion. On their arrival on the tea-estate each one finds 







jSSk irrT^.^rLa .*x^^^ c 




GROUP OF TAMIL COOLIES, OR WAGE-WORKERS. 

himself so many rupees in debt for the expenses of 
transit ! An average wage is 6d, a day, but to keep 
them up to the mark in productiveness their work is 
*' set " for them to complete a certain task in a certain 
time, and If they do not come up to their task they 
get only half pay ; so that if a man Is slow, or lazy, 



ADAMS PEAK AND THE BLACK RIVER. 51 

or ill, he may expect about '^d. per diem ! Under 
these circumstances the debt, as may be imagined, 
goes on increasing instead of diminishing ; the 
estate is far up country, away from town or village, 
and the tea company acts as agent and sells rice and 
the other necessaries of life to its own coolies. Poor 
things, they cannot buy elsewhere. '' Oh, but they 
like to be in debt," said a young planter to me, *'and 
think they are not doing the best for themselves 
unless they owe as much as the company will allow." 
He was very young, that planter, and perhaps did 
not realise what he was saying ; but what a sugges- 
tion of despair ! Certainly there may have been 
some truth in the remark ; for when all hope of ever 
being out of debt is gone, the very next best thing is 
to be in debt as much as ever you can. At the end 
of the week the coolie does not see any wage ; his 
rice, etc., has forestalled all that, and more ; only 
his debt is ticked down a little deeper. If he runs 
away to a neighboring estate he is soon sent back 
in irons. He is a slave, and must remain so to the 
end of his days. That is not very long however ; 
for poor food and thin clothing, and the mists and 
cool airs of the mountains soon bring on lung dis- 
eases, of which the slight-bodied Tamil easily dies. 

" I dare say 3</. a day seems a very small wage to 
you," said the planter youth, ''but it is really sur- 
prising how little these fellows will live on." 

'' It is surprising, indeed, when you see their thin 
frames, that they live at all." 

'' Ah, but they are much worse off at home ; you 
should see them when they come from India." 
And so the conversation ended. 

G 



5 2 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

And this Is how our tea, which we set so much 
store by, is produced In Ceylon and other places. 
These plantations are sad-looking places. Commer- 
cialism somehow has a way of destroying all natural 
beauty in those regions where it dwells. Here the 
mountain sides are torn up, the immense and beauti- 
ful forests ravaged from base to summit, and the 
shaly escarpments that remain planted in geometri- 
cal lines with tea-shrubs. You may walk for miles 
through such weary lands, extending rapidly now 
all over the mountain region from the base to near 
the tops of the highest mountains, the blackened 
skeletons of half-burnt trees alone remaining to tell 
of the old forests, of which before long there will be 
but a memory left. 

It is curious, when one comes to think of it, that 
such huge spaces of the earth are devastated, such 
vast amounts of human toil expended, In the produc- 
tion of two things — tea and wine — which to say the 
least are not necessaries, and which certainly in the 
quantities commonly consumed are actually baneful. 
If their production simply ceased, what a gain It 
might seem ! Yet the commercial policies of the 
various nations stimulate these, and always to the 
neglect of the necessaries of life. They stimulate 
the stimulants. We need not be hypercritical, but 
there must be something peculiar In the temper of 
the modern nations that they make such tremendous 
sacrifices in order to act In this way. 

On each tea-plantation there are the '' lines " 
(rows of huts) In which the coolies live, and the 
■ * factory " — a large wooden building, with rows of 
windows, a steam engine, and machinery for the 



ADAMS PEAK AND THE BLACK RIVER. 



83 



various processes concerned — withering, fermenting, 
rolling, firing, sorting, packing, etc. The tea-bushes 
(a variety of the camellia) are not allowed to grow 
more than three or four feet high. In Ceylon the 
plucking goes on almost all the year round. As 
soon as the young shoots, with five or six leaves, 




TAMIL GIRL COOLIE, PLUCKING TEA. 

have had time to form since the last plucking, a 
gang of workers comes round — mostly girls and 
women for this job — each with a basket, into which 
they pluck the young leaves and the little rolled-up 
leaf-bud, most precious of all. When taken to the 
factory the leaves are first spread out to wither, 



84 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

then rolled by machinery (to look like buds), then 
dried or baked by artificial heat. After this they 
are sorted through a huge sieve, and the finest 
quality, consisting of the small leaf-bud, is called 
Flowery Pekoe ; the next size, including some of 
the young leaf, is called Broken Pekoe ; and the 
coarser leaves come out as Pekoe Souchong, Sou- 
chong, etc. The difficulty with tea, as with wine, is 
that no two yields are alike ; the conditions of pluck- 
ing, fermenting, firing, etc., all make a difference in 
the resultant flavor. Hence a dealer, say in Lon- 
don, who reckons to supply his customers with tea 
of a certain constant flavor, has simply to make 
such tea as best he can — -namely by " blending" any 
teas which he can lay hold of in the market, and 
which will produce the desired result. The names 
given in these cases are of course mostly fictitious. 

I may as well insert here one or two extracts from 
letters since received from our friend '' Ajax," which 
will perhaps help to show the condition of the coolies 
in the tea-gardens where he is now working. He 
says : — 

*' One gets very fond of the coolies, they are so 
much like children ; they bring all their little griev- 
ances to one to settle. A man will come and com- 
plain that his wife refuses to cook his food for him ; 
the most minute details of family affairs are settled 
by the sahib of the garden. The coolies have a 
hard time, and are treated little better than slaves ; 
most willing workers they are. Still all I can say is 
that they have a much better time than the very 
poor at home, such as the factory girls, tailoresses, 



Adam's peak and the black river. 85 

etc., and laborers. On this garden they have met 
with exceptionally hard lines ; the manager being an 
ill-bred man has had no consideration for his men, 
and they have died in hundreds from exposure to 
weather in the garden and houses, which had all 
crumbled away from neglect. Many families of ten 
or eleven in number have dwindled away to one 
or two. In one case, two little fellows of eight and 
nine, living together on five rupees a month, are the 
only representatives (of a former family). . . . 

'* I was sorry to leave (the former garden), very ; I 
had got to know the coolies, 300 of them at any rate 
who were under my charge, and they had got to 
know me. Many of them wanted to come with me 
here, but that is not allowed. Some said they would 
' cut their names,' that is take their names off the 
garden labor-register, and go wherever I went, but 
of course they could not do that. I don't know why 
they were so anxious to come, because I know I 
worked them very hard all the time I was there. I 
think my predecessor used to fine them and thrash 
them a good deal, often because he did not know 
what they said, and could not make them under- 
stand. I like the coolies very much, and one gets 
quite attached to some of them ; they seem instinc- 
tively polite ; and if you are ill, they tend you just 
like a woman — never leave one in fact. The higher 
and more respectable class of Baboos are just as 
objectionable, I think." 



CHAPTER V. 

BRITISH LAW-COURTS AND BUDDHIST TEMPLES. 

Kurundgala. — I have come to the conclusion that 
the courts and judicial proceedings out here are a 
kind of entertainment provided for the oysters at 
the expense of the British Government, and that the 
people really look upon these institutions very much 
in that light. Poor things ! their ancient communal 
life and interests, with all the local questions and 
politics which belonged thereto, and even to a great 
extent the religious festivals, have been improved 
away ; they have but few modern joys — no votes 
and elections such as would delight our friend 
JVIonerasingha — no circuses, theatres, music-halls. 
What is there left for them but the sensations of the 
police-courts ? The district court here is, I find, 
the one great centre of interest in the town. Crowds 
collect in the early morning, and hang about all day 
in its vicinity, either watching the cases or discuss- 
ing the judgments delivered, till sunset; when they 
disperse homeward again. Cooling drinks are sold, 
beggars ply their trade, the little bullock-hackeries 
trot up and down, and the place is as busy as a 
fair. There is no particular stigma in conviction by 
an alien authority ; there is a happy uncertainty in 
the judgments delivered by the representatives of a 
race that has difficulty in understanding the popular 



BRITISH LAW-COURTS AND BUDDHIST TEMPLES. 87 

customs and language ; and the worst that can 
happen — namely relegation to prison life — affords a 
not unpleasant prospect. Besides, these institutions 
can be used to gratify personal spleen ; cases can be, 
and frequently are, cooked up in the most elaborate 
manner. Damages can be claimed for a fictitious 
assault ; and when an injury has really been done, the 
plaintiff (and this I find is a constantly recurring 




BULLOCK-HACKERY, COLOMBO. 



difficulty) will accuse not only the author of the 
mischief, but Tom, Dick, and Harry besides, who 
have had nothing whatever to do with it, but who 
are the objects of personal spite, in the hope of 
getting them too into trouble. The Cinghalese, as 
I have said before, are a very sensitive people. Any 
grievance rankles in their bosom, and in revenge 
they will not unfrequently use the knife. An Eura- 
sian friend, a doctor, says that he quite thinks cases 



55 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

might occur In which a man who had been wounded 
or assaulted by another w^ould die out of spite in 
order to get the other hanged ! — would connive 
with his relations and starve himself, and not try to 
heal the wound. He says however that the cases 
of ruptured spleen — of which we so frequently hear — 
are genuine, as frequent fevers often cause Immense 
enlargement of the spleen, which then bursts for a 
comparatively slight cause, e.g. a planter and a stick. 

The courts in this country are generally large 
thatched or tiled halls, sometimes with glass sides, 
but often open to the wind, with only a low wall 
running round, over which, as you sit Inside, a crowd 
of bare arms and heads and bodies appears. At 
one end sits the English official, dutifully but wearily 
going through his task, a big punkah waving over his 
head and helping to dispel the slumbrous noontide 
heat^; below him stands the mudaliar, who acts as 
Interpreter — for the etiquette properly enough re- 
quires that the transactions of the court shall be 
given in both languages, even though the official 
be a native or an Englishman knowing the native 
language perfectly ; at the table In the centre are 
seated a few reporters and proctors, and at the other 
end are the prisoners in the dock, and the police- 
men In their boots. 

The cases are largely quarrels, and more or less 
unfounded accusations arising out of quarrels, thefts 
of bullocks or of coco-nuts, and so forth. The 
chief case when I was In court some days ago was 
rather amusing. A few days before, three or four 
men, having been accused, possibly wrongfully, of 
burglary, and having (on account of Insufficient 



BRITISH LAW-COURTS AND BUDDHIST TEMPLES. 89 

evidence) been acquitted, went off straight from the 
court to an arrack shop and got drunk. They then 
made it up between them that they would rob the 
man thoroughly that evening, even if they had not 
done so before, and give him a good hiding into the 
bargain ; and taking to themselves some other con- 
genial spirits went off on their errand. They found 
the man asleep in the verandah of his cabin, and 
tying him down gave him some blows. But — as it 
came out in the evidence with regard to the very 
slight marks on the body — before they could have 
hurt him much, the man, with great presence of 
mind, died, and left them charged with the crime 
of murder ! An old woman — the man's mother — 
with a beautiful face, but shaking with age, came 
forward to give evidence. She said she was nearly 
100 years old, though the evidence on this point 
was not very clear. Anyhow, her head was remark- 
ably clear, and she gave her testimony well ; 
identified several of the prisoners, said they had 
broken into the cabin and carried off valuables, and 
that one, the leader, had motioned her into a corner 
of the cabin, saying, " Stand aside, old mother, or 
you'll get hurt," while another had come up to her 
and said, *' I think I had better take those bangles 
from you, as they are no good to you now, you 
know." There were nine men charged with the 
offence, and they were committed for trial in a 
higher court — very decent-looking scaramouches on 
the whole, just about average types of humanity. 

The English officials that I have seen here and at 
other places strike me as remarkably good-hearted 
painstaking men ; but one feels the gulf between 



90 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

them and the people — a gulf that can never be 
bridged. Practically all that a Government like 
ours does, or can do, is to make possible the estab- 
lishment of our social institutions in the midst of an 
alien people — our railways, education, Bible missions, 
hospitals, law-courts, wage-slavery, and profit- 
grinding, and all the rest of it, in the midst of a 
people whose whole life springs from another root, 
namely religious feeling. The two will never blend, 
though the shock produced by the contact of two 
such utterly different civilisations may react on both, 
to the production of certain important results. Any- 
how for a well-meaning official it must be depressing 
work ; for though he may construct a valuable tank, 
or what not, from the highest motives according to 
his own lights — i.e. for the material welfare of the 
people and the realisation of a five per cent, profit to 
Government — still he never comes near touching the 
hearts of the millions, who would probably pay much 
more respect to a half-luny yogi than to him and 
all his percentages. 

A.'s friend, Samanathan, comes to read English 
with me every day, and teaches me a little Tamil in 
return. He is something of a dandy, with his green 
silk coat and hair plaited down his back, and delicate 
hands and manners — a fellow over thirty, with a 
w^fe and children, and yet not earning any livelihood, 
but remaining on at home with his parents, and 
dependent on them ! And what seems to us most 
strange, this is quite an admitted and natural thing 
to do — such is the familiar communism which still 
prevails. He is very much of a student by nature, 
and in his native town (in India) gives lectures. 



BRITISH LAW-COURTS AND BUDDHIST TEMPLES. 9 1 

philosophical and theological, free of charge, and 
which are quite popular. He is reading S. Mark 
with me, and reads it pretty well, being evidently 
familiar even with the more philosophical words, 
though doubtful about the pronunciation of some. 
He is interested in the story of Jesus, and thinks 
Jesus was no doubt a *' sage " — i e. an adept — or at 
any rate versed in the arcane lore of the East. But 
he is much amused at the Christian doctrine of the 
redemption, which I suppose he has got hold of, 
not from Mark but the missionaries. 

On the loth of this month (January), F. Modder 
and I went off on an excursion from here to Dam- 
bulla (35 miles), and thence to Anuradhapura (42 
miles). Dambulla is celebrated for its Buddhist 
rock-temples, and Anuradhapura is the site of a very 
ancient city, now in ruins amid the jungle. 

Despite all sorts of reports about the length of 
the journey and its difficulty — the chief difficulty 
being that of getting any exact information — M. 
managed to secure a bullock-cart with spj^ings, and 
two pairs of bullocks ; and we made a start about 
6-30 p.m. A mattress in the cart and a pillow or 
two made all comfortable. We sat and talked for 
a couple of hours, then walked, and then went to 
sleep. With an average speed of two miles an hour 
we reached the rest-house at Gokarella at midnight, 
changed bulls, and immediately went on. Another 
six hours brouorht us to the house of a Government 
medical practitioner — a Cinghalese — where we got 
an early breakfast, and finally we reached Dr. 
Devos' house, at Dambulla, about mid-day. 



92 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



The little bulls went patiently on during the night, 
the Tamil driver chirruping '' Jack " and '* Pitta " to 
them (corresponding to our carters' "Orve" and 
*' Gee,") which some cheerful English traveler is 
said to have interpreted into the statement that the 
natives of Ceylon call all their cattle either Jack 
or Peter ; the stars shone bright — the Milky Way 







CINGHALESE COUNTRY-CART. 
{Thatched with palm-branches.) 



innumerable. The road was bad, with occasional 
descents into dry sandy torrent beds ; jungle 
stretched all around (with here and there, M. says, 
the remains of some town buried in undergrowth) ; 
but we slept — M. slept, I slept, the driver slept, and 
occasionally even the good little bulls slept. Once 
or twice we came thus to a total stoppage, all sleep- 
ing, and then woke up at the unwonted quiet. 

Just the first light of dawn, and a few strange 



BRITISH LAW-COURTS AND BUDDHIST TEMPLES. 93 

bird-calls in the bush ; the great fictts trees with 
their mighty buttresses stretching white stems up 
into the yet ghostly light ; ant-hills, conical and 
spired, all along the road-side ; tangles of creepers, 
and then, as the sun rose, quantities of butterflies. 
I know nothing of butterflies, but the kinds in this 
country are very various and beautiful. There is one 
which is very common, about four inches across, black 
and white, with body a bright red, and underwing 
spotted with the same colour — very handsome ; and 
one day, when taking a sun-bath in the woods, an 
immense swallow-tail hovered round me, fully ten 
inches across from tip to tip of wings. 

Modder is a cheerful fellow, of Dutch descent 
probably, of about thirty years of age, a proctor or 
solicitor for native cases, well up in Cinghalese and 
Tamil, and full of antiquarian knowledge, yet can 
troll a comic song nicely with a sweet voice. I find 
he is a regular democrat, and hates the whole caste 
system in which he lives embedded — thinks the 
U.S. must be "a glorious country." He says he 
has often talked to the Tamil and Cinghalese people 
about the folly of caste. At first they can't under- 
stand what he means — are completely at a loss to 
imagine anything different, but after a time the idea 
seems to take hold on them. 

Found Devos at Dambulla — a fine clear-faced 
man of about thirty-three, genuine, easy - going, 
carrying on a hospital in this slightly populated dis- 
trict — just a large native village, no more — but the 
mails come through this way, and a few English 
on their way to Anuradhapura, and other places. 
Gangs of Tamil coolies also, from the mainland of 



94 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

India, pass through Dambulla In going up country, 
and have to be medically examined here, for fear of 
cholera, etc. Living with Devos are two younger 
fellows, Percy Carron, who is also an Eurasian, and 
a Cinghalese youth, both foresters — a small easy- 
going bachelors' household, and all very chummy 
together. Thought they also treated their Tamil 
" boy " John well — actually called him by his name, 
and did not shout at him. These fellows all talk 
English among themselves, in a close lipped, rapid, 
rather neat way. The other two chaffed the Cing- 
halese a good deal, who was of the usual sensitive 
clinging type. 

In the afternoon we went up the rock to see 
the temples. A great rock, 500 or 600 feet high, 
similar to that at Kurunegala. Half-way up stretches 
a broad ledge, 100 yards long, commanding a fine 
view over hill and dale, and between this ledge and 
an overhanging layer of rock above are niched five 
temples all in a row. No facade to speak of, mere 
stucco walling, but within you pass into large 
caverns full of rude statues. The largest of the 
temples is 150 feet long, 40 deep, and 23 high in 
front — a great dark space with perhaps fifty colossal 
images of Buddha sitting round in the gloom with 
their sickly smile of Nirvana, and one huge figure, 
30 or 40 feet long, lying down in illumined sleep ; 
all crudely done, and painted bright yellows and 
reds, yet rather impressive. The sides too and roof 
of the cavern are frescoed in the same crude man- 
ner with stories from the life of Buddha, and with 
figures of the Hindu gods. Withal, a fusty smell, a 
thousand years old, of priests none too clean, offiar- 



BRITISH LAW-COURTS AND BUDDHIST TEMPLES. 95 

ing oil-lamps, of withered flowers and stale incense, 
oppressed us horribly, and it was the greatest relief 
to get out again into the open. Devos says the 
scene is very striking at the great festivals, when 
multitudinous pilgrims assemble and offer their 
lights and their flowers and their money, on benches 
each before the figure they affect. Tomtoms beat, 
worshipers recite their prayers, lights twinkle, and 
outside the light of the full moon pours down upon 
the rock. Monkeys native to the rock are fed on 
this ledge in hundreds by the priests. 

Ceylon is of course mainly Buddhist, and all over 
the hilly part of the island rock-temples of this sort, 
though smaller, are scattered — some mere shrines 
with a single seated or recumbent image of Buddha. 
They are commonly built among the woods, under 
some overhanging brow of rock, and the story 
generally runs that the cavern had in earlier times 
been occupied by some hermit-saint, or yogi, and 
that the temple was built in remembrance of him. 
There is a little one of this, kind half-way up the 
rock at Kurunegala, and it is tended by a boy priest 
of about thirteen years of age, who, barehead and 
barefoot, but with his yellow priest-robe wound 
gracefully about him, attends in a dignified man- 
ner to the service of the shrine. He is generally 
followed by a little attendant (every one has an 
attendant in the East) — a small boy of about nine — 
who turns out to be his khoki, or cook! This sounds 
luxurious, but by rule the Buddhist priests should 
live the most abstemious lives. They are supposed 
to have no money or possessions of their own, and 
to be entirely celibate. Each morning they go out 



96 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

with their begging bowls on their arm to get their 
daily food. They go to a house and stand near the 
door, asking nothing. Then presently the woman 
comes out and puts a little rice in the bowl, and the 
priest goes on to the next house. When he has 
got sufficient he returns, and his attendant cooks 
the food (if not already cooked) and he eats it. 
For each priest has the privilege to choose a boy 
or youth to be his attendant, whom he trains up 
to the priesthood, and who takes his place after 
him. This perhaps explains the presence of the 
small boy khoki above. 

The Buddhist priests, like the Hindu priests, are 
drawn mostly from the comparatively uneducated 
masses, but there is no need in their case that they 
should be Brahmans. A vast tolerance, and gentle- 
ness towards all forms of life, characterises the 
Buddhist institutions ; but in the present day in 
Ceylon the institutions are decadent, and the priests, 
with a few exceptions, are an ignorant and incap- 
able set. The efforts of Col. Olcott however, on 
behalf of the Theosophical Society, and of Suman- 
gala, the present high priest of the island, a man of 
great learning and gentleness, have done something 
in latest years to infuse a new spirit into the Bud- 
dhism of Ceylon and to rehabilitate its esoteric side. 

At Kandy in one of the Buddhist temples outside 
the town there is a standing figure of Buddha twenty- 
seven feet high, carved in the face of the solid rock, 
and the temple built round it — rather fine — -though 
with the usual crude red and yellow paint. It be- 
longs to the time of the kings of Kandy, and is 
only about 150 years old. Many of the ordinary 



BRITISH LAW-COURTS AND BUDDHIST TEMPLES. 97 

cave-temples are extremely old, however — as old as 
Buddhism in the island, 2,000 years or more — and 
likely were used for religious purposes even before 
that. 

After looking at the Dambulla temples, which are 
said to have been constructed by the king Wala- 
gambahu about 100 B.C., we gained the summit of 
the rock, whence you have a view over plains to- 
wards the sea and of ranges of hills inland, not 
unlike that from the rock at Kurunegala ; and then 
descended, not without difficulty, the precipitous 
side. Evening fell, and darkies came out with 
lamps to our aid. 

The same night I pushed on by mail-coach to 
Anuradhapura, leaving Modder behind, as he un- 
fortunately had to return to Kurunegala the next 
day. 



H 



CHAPTER VI. 

ANURADHAPURA : A RUINED CITY OF THE JUNGLE. 

The remains of this ancient city lie near the centre 
of the great plain which occupies the north end of 
the island of Ceylon. To reach them, even from 
Dambulla, the nearest outpost of civilisation, one 
has to spend a night in the " mail-coach," which in 
this case consists of a clumsy little cart drawn at 
a jog-trot through the darkness by bullocks, and 
generally full of native passengers. Six times In 
the forty-two miles the little humped cattle are 
changed, and at last — by the time one has thoroughly 
convinced oneself that it is impossible to sleep In 
any attainable position — one finds oneself, about 
6 a.m., driving through woods full of ruins. 

Here, on the site of a once vast and populous 
town, stands now a small village. The care of 
Government has cleared the jungle away from the 
most important remains and those lying just around 
the present site, so that the chief feature Is a beauti- 
ful park-like region of grass and scattered trees, in 
which stand out scores, and even hundreds, of 
columns, with statues, huge dagobas, fragments of 
palaces, and innumerable evidences of ancient 
building. It Is a remarkable scene. The present 
cutcherry stands on the shore of one of the large 
reservoirs which used to supply the city and neigh- 



99 



LofC. 



lOO FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

borhood, but which at present, owing to want of 
rain and deficiencies of channels, is nearly dry. On 
climbing the embankment the bed of the lake 
stretches before one, with hundreds of tame buffalos 
and other cattle grazing on its level meadows ; a few 
half-naked darkies are fishing in a little water which 
remains in one corner ; on either hand the lake- 
bottom is bounded by woods, and out of these woods, 
and out of the woods behind one, high above the 
trees loom green and overgrown masses of masonry, 
while below and among them labyrinths of unex- 
plored ruins are hidden in thick dark tangle. It is 
as if London had again become a wilderness, above 
which the Albert Memorial and S. Paul's and the 
Tower still reared confused heaps of grassy stone 
and brickwork, while sheep and oxen browsed 
peacefully in the bed of the Thames, now^ diverted 
into another channel. 

Here for instance still standing in a great square, 
on a piece of ground over an acre in extent, are 
sixteen hundred rough-hewn columns, solid granite, 
projecting about ten feet out of the ground, and 
arranged in parallel rows at right angles to each 
other. They are supposed to form the foundation 
storey of a building nine storeys high, no doubt 
built of wood, but according to the ancient chronicles 
of the Mahawanso gorgeously decorated, with its 
resplendent brass-covered roof and central hall of 
golden pillars and ivory throne, erected in the 
second century b.c , occupied by the royal folk and 
the priests, and called the Brazen Palace. 

Close by is the glory of Buddhism and of Ceylon, 
the oldest historical tree in the world, the celebrated 



anurAdhapura : a ruined city of the jungle, ioi 

bo-tree of A nuradhapura, planted 245 years before the 
Christian era (from a sHp, it is said, of the tree under 
which Buddha sat when the great ilkimination came 
to him), and now more than twenty-one centuries 
old. Extraordinary as the age is, yet the chronicles 
of this tree's life have been so carefully kept (see 
Emerson Tennent's Ceylon, where twenty-five 
references from the Mahawanso and other chronicles 
are given, covering from B.C. 288 to a.d. 1739), that 
there is at least fair reason for supposing that the 
story is correct. The bo-tree, though belonging to 
the fig family, has a leaf strongly resembling that 
of an aspen. The mid-rib of the leaf is however 
prolonged some two inches into a narrow point, 
which is sometimes curved into quite a hook. The 
tremulous motion of the leaf and the general appear- 
ance of the tree also resemble the aspen, though 
the growth is somew^hat sturdier. Thousands of 
bo-trees are planted all over India and Ceylon in 
memory of Buddha (though the tree was probably 
an object of veneration before his time) ; the ground 
is sacred where they stand, and a good Buddhist 
will on no account cut one down, however incon- 
veniently it may be growing. This particular tree, 
it must be confessed, is somewhat disappointing. It 
is small, and though obviously old, does not suggest 
the idea of extreme antiquity. It springs from the 
top of a mound some fifteen feet high, and the pro- 
bability I think is that this mound has in the course 
of centuries been thrown up round the original 
trunk to support and protect it — just as has hap- 
pened to Milton's mulberry tree at Cambridge, and 
to others — and thus has gradually hidden a great 



102 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

part of the tree from view. And this idea seems 
to be supported by the fact that six or seven other 
and lesser stems branch out from neighboring parts 
of the same mound, the terraces and shrines which 
occupy the mound helping to conceal the fact that 
these also are, or were at one time, really all parts 
of one tree. Anyhow the whole enclosure, which is 
about an acre in extent and is surrounded by an 
ancient wall, is thickly planted with bo-trees, some 
of really fine dimensions, so that the pious pilgrim 
need have no difficulty in securing a leaf, without 
committing the sacrilege of robbing the venerable 
plant. 

Here, to this sacred enclosure, and to deposit 
flowers and offerings within it, come at certain festi- 
vals thousands of Buddhist pilgrims. Trudging in 
on foot or driving by bullock-cart they camp out in 
the park-like grounds in the immediate neighbor- 
hood of the present village, and after paying their 
respects to the holy tree go to visit the dagobas 
and other monuments which enshrine a bone or a 
tooth or a hair from the brow of their great teacher. 
For the rest of the year these places are left almost 
unvisited. There are no guides to importune the 
rare tourist or traveler, and one wanders alone 
through the woods for a whole day and sees no 
one, except it be a troop of monkeys, with tails 
erect, playing leap-frog over the stumps of fallen 
columns, as if in ridicule of the old priests, or sit- 
ting like fakirs on the tops of those still standing. 

The dagobas, which are by far the most impor- 
tant remains here, are bell-shaped structures mostly 
of solid brick, originally built to enshrine some relic. 



ANURADHAPURA I A RUINED CITY OF THE JUNGLE. lO 



O 



They might ingeniously be mistaken for ornamental 
candle-extinguishers made on a vast scale, and have 
mostly in their time been coated with a white plas- 
ter and decorated here and there with gold or 
brass. Round them have been courts supported on 
stone columns ; and generally at the four points — 
North, East, West, and South — have been placed 
little shrines with well-cut steps and ornamental 
balustrades leading up to them. The interiors of 
these dagobas — such as they may have been — have 
never been accessible except to the priests ; some- 
times, no doubt, treasures have been concealed 
within them, but for the most part probably they 
have concealed nothing except the supposed relic, 
and have been built to gratify the pride and add to 
the popularity of the monarch of the day. 

The Thuparama Dagoba, which stands at the 
northern extremity of the park-like clearings above 
mentioned, is supposed by Fergusson {liandbook to 
Architecture, vol. i., p. 41) to be older than any 
monument now existing on the continent of India. 
It was built by King Dewanipiatissa in B.C. 307 to 
enshrine the right collar-bone of Buddha, and was 
restored some years ago by the pious, so that one 
gets a good idea from it of the general appearance 
these objects originally presented. It is white, bell- 
shaped, and some sixty-five feet high, with a brass 
pinnacle on the top ; and some elegant columns 
about eighteen feet high stand yet in admired dis- 
order in the court below. In the accompanying 
illustration the dagoba and surrounding columns 
appear some distance in the background, and the 
stone pillars and steps in the foreground are the 



I04 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



remains of the Dalada Maligawa — a temple which 
was built to receive the sacred tooth of Buddha 
when it was first brought over to Ceylon from the 
mainland. Round this tooth battles raged, and in 
the struggle for its possession dynasties rose and 
fell. The enormous saurian fang, which purports 




THUPARAMA DAGOBA, ANURADHAPURA. 
{With ruins of Dalada Maligawa in foregroicnd.) 



to be the same tooth, is now preserved in great state 
in the well-known Buddhist temple at Kandy, as I 
have already mentioned. The little figure of a 
gate-keeper or dhworpal at the foot of the steps is 
an excellent specimen of early Buddhist sculpture, 
and is very graceful and tender. It is given on a 
larger scale in a separate illustration (page 113). 
The Ruanweli (or Gold-dust) Dagoba, which 



ANURADHAPURA I A RUINED CITY OF THE JUNGLE. IO5 

rears its unshapely form close to the present village, 
gives one a notion of the massiveness of these 
ancient structures, and at the same time of the 
ravages which lapse of years has wrought upon 
them. In outline it resembles a gigantic but ill- 
made circular haystack, 150 feet high. All the 
upper part of it is covered with thick grass, except 
where recent lapses have exposed the close yet 
rather soft brickwork of which the whole is com- 
pacted. The more accessible lower parts and sur- 
rounding terraces have lately been cleaned of under- 
growth; and at the foot, among some well-executed 
carvings, stand four or five fine statues, about eight 
feet high — one of King Dutugemunu who is said to 
have begun the building about B.C. 161, the others 
apparently of Buddha, and all dignified and noble in 
conception, if not anatomically perfect in execution. 

But the dagobas which best show the gradual 
effacement of human handiwork by Nature are the 
Jetawanarama and the Abhayagiria, both of which 
stand some distance out in the woods, and tower 
above the foliage to the heights of 250 feet and 300 
feet respectively. The former of these (see plate 
at beginning of this chapter) presents a vast cone 
of brickwork some 200 feet high, surmounted by 
a cylindrical column of the same ; and the conical 
portion is simply overgrown by dense masses of 
trees, which inserting their roots into the crevices 
of the bricks are continually dislodging portions of 
this artificial mountain. Cactuses, varieties of fig, 
and other trees climb to the very base of the 
column, and here, where the brickwork is too steep 
to be covered with foliage, the omnipresent wanderoo 



io6 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

monkey may be seen disporting itself on the very 
summit. 

The Abhayaglria Is of similar shape, but only 
covered at present with a shrub-like growth. 
Originally It was the largest dagoba In Ceylon, 
being 405 feet high — or as high as S. Paul's — but 
time has reduced It to somewhere about 300 feet. 
A rather precipitous path leads from the base to the 
summit, which has recently been restored in some 
fashion, and from thence a fine view may be 
obtained. 

As you roam through the woods by jungle paths, 
or along the two or three roads which have been 
made in late years to open up the ruins, you come 
upon innumerable smaller remains. Most frequent 
among these are groups of columns still standing, 
twenty or thirty together, sometimes only rough- 
hewn, sometimes elegantly shaped, with carven 
capitals, which either formed the foundation storeys 
of wooden buildings, or being themselves covered 
with roofs constituted porticos for the resting-places 
of the gods in their processions, or habitations for 
the use of the priests. There are very few remains 
of walled buildings, stone or brick, but plentiful 
foundation outlines of what may have been public 
or sacred enclosures of one kind or another — some 
with handsome flights of steps and balustrades 
leading up to them, and for the lowest step the 
frequent half-moon stone carved with elegant devices 
of the elephant, the lion, the horse, the brahman 
bull, the goose, and the lotus-flower. Here among 
the tangle Is a flight of half-a-dozen steps, springing 
from nowhere and apparently leading nowhither. 



ANURADHAPURA I A RUINED CITY OF THE JUNGLE. IO7 

There is a gigantic stone trough, sixty-two feet long 
by four feet four inches wide, over which the learned 
are in doubt whether it was used to contain food 
for the royal elephants or boiled rice for the priests ! 
Here at any rate is a cistern ten feet long by five 
wide, elegantly carved out of a single block of 
granite, which, tradition says, served for the priests' 
rice-dish ; and which only a few years ago was, 
by the subscription of a neighboring country side, 
filled full of food (see S. M. Burrows' Buried Cities 
of Ceylon; London, Trlibner & Co., 1885) for the 
pilgrims of the June full moon. There again is one 
of the numerous flat slabs which may be found, 
bearing an ancient inscription on its face ; and in 
almost every direction are solid stone swimming 
baths or tanks, ten, twenty, or thirty yards up to 
(in one case) fully 100 yards in length. Two of 
these pokunas, so-called — ^the twin pokunas — stand 
near the northern circular road, and are still in good 
preservation ; the one given in the illustration on 
next page is forty-four yards long, the other about 
thirty, and both have handsome flights of steps at 
each end by which to descend to the water, and 
step-like tiers of stonework round the sides. They 
were of course not covered, but open to the sun 
and air. 

As you go along the road after leaving these 
tanks, at a turn you suddenly come upon a seated 
image of Buddha — by the wayside, under the trees. 
The figure is about seven feet high as it sits. It is 
of dark-colored granite, and though slightly defaced 
is still by far the best thing of its kind in the place. 
Most of the images of Buddha in the present temples 



io8 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



of Ceylon are painfully crude productions ; but this 
has caught something of the grace of the great 
Guru. The eyelids are just shut, yet so slightly as 
to suggest that the figure is not lost in the ordinary 
material sleep, but only in that luminous slumber 
which, while closing itself to the outward and tran- 
sitory world, opens on the eternal and steadfast con- 





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A RUINED BATHING TANK, ANURADHAPURA. 



sciousness behind. A deep calm overspreads the 
face — so deep that it insensibly affects the passer- 
by. He involuntarily stops and gazes, surrendering 
himself to its influence, and to that of the silent 
forest. His thoughts subside, like waves on water 
when the wind ceases. He too for a moment 
touches the well-spring of being — he swims into 



ANURADHAPURA I A RUINED CITY OF THE JUNGLE. lOQ 

identity with the universe ; the trees flicker in the 
evening Hght, the Buddha just gives the shghtest 
nod, as much as to say, " That's it" ; and then — he 
is but stone again, and the road stretches beyond. 

Curious that one man should so affect the world 
that he should leave his bo-trees and his dao^obas 

o 

and his images in thousands over half a continent ; 
that he should gather vast cities round his name, 
and still, when they have perished and passed away, 
should remain the most glorious thing connected 
with them ; yet Buddha could not have had this 
ascendancy had not other people in their thousands 
and hundreds of thousands experienced in greater 
or less degree the same facts that he experienced. 
We must forgive, after all, the dirty yellow-robed 
priests, with their greedy claws and stinking shrines. 
It was Buddha's fault, not theirs, when he explored 
poor human nature so deeply as to invest even its 
lowest manifestations with sanctity. 

Where this image now sits perhaps once it looked 
down upon the busy turmoil of a great street. The 
glories of the capital of the Cinghalese kingdom 
unrolled before and beneath it. Hear how the 
chronicler of the seventh century (quoted by Emer- 
son Tennent) describes — with justifiable pride — the 
splendor of the city in his day : '' The temples and 
palaces whose golden pinnacles glitter in the sky, the 
streets spanned by arches bearing flags, the ways 
strewn with sand, and on either side vessels con- 
taining flowers, and niches with statues holding 
lamps. Here are multitudes of men armed with 
swords and bows and arrows. Elephants, horses, 
carts, and myriads of people pass and repass— 



no FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

jugglers, dancers, and musicians of all nations, with 
chanks hells and other instruments ornamented with 
gold. The distance from the principal gate to the 
east gate is four gows, and the same from the north 
to the south gate. The principal streets are Moon 
Street, Great King Street, Hinguruwak, and Maha- 
welli Street— the first containing ii,ooo houses, 
many of them two storeys in height. The smaller 
streets are innumerable. The palace has large 
ranges of buildings, some of them two and three 
storeys high, and its subterranean apartments are 
of great extent." 

Fa Hian, the Chinese traveler, who visited Ceylon 
about 413 A.D., also says : '' The city is the residence 
of many magistrates, grandees, and foreign mer- 
chants ; the mansions beautiful, the public buildings 
richly adorned, the streets and highways straight 
and level, and houses for preaching built at every 
thoroughfare." Nor was the civilisation of Anurad- 
hapura merely material in its scope, for Tennent tells 
us that beside public gardens and baths, halls for 
music and dancing, rest-houses for travelers, alms- 
houses, etc., they had hospitals in which animals 2.s 
well as men were tenderly cared for. '* The corn of 
a thousand fields was set apart by one king for their 
use ; another put aside rice to feed the squirrels 
which frequented his gardens ; and a third displayed 
his surgical skill in treating the diseases of elephants, 
horses, and snakes." 

Founded by Cinghalese invaders of the island 
somewhere in the fifth or sixth centuries B.C., the city 
attained its first splendor under King Dewanipia- 
tissa, who came to the throne in B.C. 306. '' It was 



ANURADHAPURA : A RUINED CITY OF THE JUNGLE. I I I 

in his reign," says Burrows, " that the royal mission- 
ary Mahindo, son of the Indian king Dharmasoka, 
landed in Ceylon, and either introduced or regene- 
rated Buddhism. The monarch and all his court, his 
consort and her women, became ready converts to 
the new tenets ; the arrival of Mahindo's sister, 
Sanofhamitta, with a branch of the identical tree 
under which Gautama obtained Buddha-hood, con- 
summated the conversion of the island ; and the king 
devoted the rest of his reign to the erection of enor- 
mous monuments, rock-temples, and monasteries, to 
mark his zeal for the new faith." 

After him troubles began. The Tamils of Southern 
India — whose history has been for so long entangled 
with that of the Cinghalese — or some branch of the 
race, attracted probably by the wealth of the new 
city, landed in Ceylon about 200 B.C. And from 
that time forward the history of Anuradhapura is the 
record of continual conflict between the races. There 
was a second great invasion in B.C. 104, and a third 
about A.D. 106, in which the Tamils are said to have 
carried back to the mainland 12,000 Cinghalese cap- 
tives, as well as great quantities of treasure. But 
the peaceful quiet-loving Cinghalese, whose chief 
talents lay in the direction of agricultural pursuits 
and the construction of those enormous tanks and 
irrigation works which still form one of the most re- 
markable features of the country, were no match in 
the arts of wars for the enterprising genius of the 
Tamils. The latter gradually pushed their way in 
more and more, dissensions between the two peoples 
more and more disorganised the city, till at last, for 
some reason not very clearly explained, in a.d. 769 



I I 2 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

the then king (Aggrabodhi IV.) evacuated his 
capital and estabHshed himself at Pollanarua, now 
also a buried city of the jungle. 

From that time, it may be supposed, Anuradha- 
pura rapidly dwindled away ; the streets were no 
more filled with gay crowds, the slight habitations 
of the populace soon fell to pieces, leaving no trace 
behind (except a soil impregnated for miles and 
miles with the debris of bricks) ; the stone palaces 
and. temples lapsed into decay. And now Buddha 
sits in the silence of the forest, folded in the ancient 
calm, just as he sat centuries and centuries ago in 
the tumult and roar of the city ; night falls, and the 
elephant and the bear roam past him through the 
brushwood, the herds of spotted deer are startled for 
a moment by his lonely form in the moonlight. 

If one ascends the Abhayagiria dagoba, from its 
vantage height of 300 feet he has a good bird's-eye 
view of the region. Before him to the west and 
north stretches as far as the eye can see a level 
plain almost unbroken by hills. This plain is covered, 
except for a few reservoirs and an occasional but 
rare oasis of coco-nut palm, by dense woods. On 
all sides they stretch, like a uniform grey-green 
carpet over the earth ; even the present village of 
Anuradhapura hardly makes a break, — so small is it, 
and interspersed with trees. Through these woods 
run narrow jungle paths, and among them, scattered 
at intervals for miles and miles, are ruins similar to 
those I have described. And this is all that is left 
to-day of the ancient city. 

I suppose the temptation to make moral reflec- 
tions on such subjects is very strong ! For myself 



ANURADHAPURA : A RUINED CITY OF THE JUNGLE. I I 3 

I can onl}^ say that I have walked through these and 
other such scenes with a sense of unfeigned grati- 
tude that they belong to a past which is dead and 
done with. That Time sweeps all these efforts of 
mortality (and our own as well) in due course into 




SMALL GUARDIAN FIGURE, OR DHWORPAL. 

(^At entrance to Dalada Maligawa.) 

his dustbin Is a matter for which we can never be 
sufficiently thankful. Think, if all the monuments 
of human pride and folly which have been created 
were to endure indefinitely, — if even our own best 
and most useful works were to remain, cumbering 

I 



114 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

Up the earth with their very multitude, what a nuis- 
ance it would be I The great kings caused glorious 
palaces and statues and temples to be made, think- 
ing to outvie all former and paralyse all future 
efforts of mankind, perpetuating their names to the 
end of the years. But Time, wiser, quickly removed 
all these things as soon as their authors were decently 
out of the way, leaving us just as much of them as 
is sufficient to convey the ideas which underlay them, 
and no more. As a vast dagoba, containing bricks 
enough to build a good-sized town of, is erected to 
enshrine a single hair from the head of a great man, 
so the glorious temples and statues and pictures and 
palaces of a whole epoch, all put together, do but 
enshrine a tiny atom of the eternal beauty. Let 
them deliver that, and go their way. 

What a good thing even that our bodies die ! How 
thankful we ought to be that they are duly interred 
and done with in course of time. Fancy if we were 
condemned always to go on in the same identical 
forms, each of us, repeating the same ancient jokes, 
making the same wise remarks, priding ourselves on 
the same superiorities over our fellows, enduring the 
same insults from them, wearing the same fusty gar- 
ments, ever getting raggeder and raggeder through 
the centuries — what a fate ! No ; let us know there 
is something better than that. These swarms of idle 
priests who ate rice out of troughs at the public ex- 
pense ; these endless mumbo-jumbo books that they 
wrote ; these mighty kings with their royal finery, 
their harlots, and their insane battles ; these animal 
hospitals ; these ruins of great cities lost in thickets ; 
these Alexandrian libraries burnt to ashes ; these 



ANURADHAPURA *. A RUINED CITY OF THE JUNGLE. I 1 5 

Greek statues broken and buried In the earth — all 
that Is really durable In them has endured and will 
endure, the rest Is surely well out of the way. 

Certainly, as one jogs through the mortal hours of 
the night In that said mail-cart, returning the forty- 
two miles from Anuradhapura to Dambulla (where 
one meets with the nearest horse coach), wedged In 
with five or six other passengers, and trying in vain 
to find a place for one's feet amid the compacted mass 
of baggage that occupies the bottom of the cart, or 
to avoid the side-rails and rods that Impinge upon 
one's back and head — kept well awake by the con- 
tinual jingling of bells and the yells and thwacks of 
the driver, as he urges his active little brahminy 
bulls through the darkness, or stopping to change 
team at wayside cabins where long conversations 
ensue, between dusky figures bearing lamps, on the 
state of the road and the probabilities of an en- 
counter with the rogue-elephant who Is supposed to 
haunt It — all those twelve long hours one has ample 
time to make suitable reflections of some kind or 
other on the transitory and Ineffectual nature of our 
little human endeavor. 



CHAPTER VII. 

A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. 

The festival of Taypusam Is one of the more im- 
portant among the many reHglous festivals of the 
Hindus, and Is celebrated with great rejoicings 
on the night of the first full moon In January each 
year. In the case of the great temples of Southern 
India, some of which are so vast that their en- 
closures are more than a mile In circumference, 
enormous crowds — sometimes 20,000 people or 
more — avHI congregate together to witness the 
ceremonials, which are elaborately gorgeous. There 
are a few Hindu temples of smaller size In Ceylon, 
and Into one of these I had the good fortune to 
be admitted, on the occasion of this year's festival 
(1891), and at the time when the proceedings were 
about to commence. 

It was nine o'clock, the full moon was shining 
In the sky, and already the blaring of trumpets and 
horns could be heard from within as I stood at the 
gate seeking admittance. At first this was positively 
denied ; but my companion, who was a person of 
some authority in the temple, soon effected an 
entrance, and we presently stood within the pre- 
cincts. It must be understood that these temples 
generally consist of a large oblong enclosure, more 
or less planted with palms and other trees, within 



A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. I I 7 

which Stands the sanctuary itself, with lesser shrines, 
priests' dwellings and other buildings grouped 
round it. In the present case the enclosure was 
about one hundred yards long by sixty or seventy 
wide, with short grass under foot. In the centre 
stood the temple proper — a building without any 
pretensions to architectural form, a mere oblong, 
bounded by a wall ten or twelve feet high ; un- 
broken by any windows, and rudely painted in 
vertical stripes, red and white. At the far end, 
under trees, were some low priests' cottages ; and 
farther on a tank or reservoir, not very large, with a 
stone balustrade around it. Coming round to the 
front of the temple, which was more ornamented, 
and where the main doorway or entrance was, we 
found there a considerable crowd assembled. We 
were in fact just in time to witness the beginning 
of the ceremony ; for almost immediately a lot of 
folk came rushing out through the doorway of the 
temple in evident excitement ; torches were lighted, 
consisting of long poles, some surmounted with a 
flaming ring of rags dipped in coco-nut oil, others 
with a small iron crate in which lumps of broken 
coco-nut burned merrily. In a few moments there 
was a brilliant light ; the people arranged themselves 
in two lines from the temple door ; sounds of music 
from within got louder ; and a small procession 
appeared, musicians first, then four nautch girls, 
and lastly a small platform supported on the 
shoulders of men, on which was the great god 
Siva. 

At first I could not make out what this last- 
named object was, but presently distinguished two 



Il8 FROM ADAM's peak TO ELEPHANTA. 

rude representations of male and female figures, 
Siva and his consort Sakti, apparently cut out of 
one block, seated, and about three feet high, but so 
bedone with jewels and silks that it was difficult to 
be sure of their anatomy ! Over them was held a 
big ornamental umbrella, and behind followed the 
priest. We joined the procession, and soon arrived 
at the edge of the reservoir which I have already 
mentioned, and on which was floating a strange 
kind of ship. It was a raft made of bamboos lashed 
to empty barrels, and on it a most florid and 
brilliant canopy, covered with cloths of different 
colors and surmounted by little scarlet pennants. 
A flight of steps down to the water occupied the 
whole of one side of the tank, the other three sides 
were surrounded by the stone balcony, and on these 
steps and round the balcony the crowd immediately 
disposed itself, while the procession went on board. 
When the god was properly arranged under his 
canopy, and the nautch girls round about him, and 
when room had been found for the crew, who with 
long poles were to propel the vessel, and for as 
many musicians as convenient — about a dozen souls 
in all — a bell rang, and the priest, a brown-bodied 
young Brahman with the sacred thread over his 
shoulders and a white cloth edged with red round 
his loins, made an ofl*ering of flame of camphor in 
a five-branched lamp. A hush fell upon the crowd, 
who all held their hands, palms together, as in the 
attitude of prayer (but also symbol of the desire to 
be joined together and to the god) — some with their 
arms high above their heads ; a tray was placed on 
the raft, of coco-nuts and bananas which the priest 



A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. 



119 



opening deposited before the Image ; the band burst 
forth into renewed uproar, and the ship went 
gyrating over the water on her queer voyage. 

What a scene ! I had now time to look around 
a little. All round the little lake, thronging the 
steps and the sides in the great glare of the torches, 
were hundreds of men and boys, barebodied, bare- 
head and barefoot, but with white loin-cloths — all in 




TAMIL MAN. 



a state of great excitement — not religious so much as 
spectacular, as at the commencement of a theatrical 
performance, myself and companion about the only 
persons clothed, — except that in a corner and forming 
a pretty mass of color were a few women and girls, 
of the poorer class of Tamils, but brightly dressed, 
with nose-rings and ear-rings profusely ornamented. 
On the water, brilliant in scarlet and gold and blue, 
was floating the sacred canopy, surrounded by 



I 20 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

musicians yelling on their various horns, in the 
front of which — with the priest standing between 
them — sat two little naked boys holding small 
torches ; while overhead through the leaves of 
plentiful coco-nut and banana palms overhanging 
the tank, in the dim blue sky among gorgeous 
cloud-outlines just discernible, shone the goddess of 
night, the cause of all this commotion. 

Such a blowing up of trumpets in the full moon ! 
F'or the first time I gathered some clear idea of 
what the ancient festivals were like. Here was a 
boy blowing two pipes at the same time, exactly as in 
the Greek bas-reliefs. There was a man droning a 
deep bourdon on a reed instrument, with cheeks 
puffed into pouches with long-sustained effort of 
blowing ; to him was attached a shrill flageolet 
player — the two together giving much the effect of 
Highland bagpipes. Then there were the tom- 
toms, whose stretched skins produce quite musical 
and bell-like though monotonous sounds ; and lastly 
two old men jingling cymbals and at the same time 
blowing their terrible chank-horns or conches. 
These chanks are much used in Buddhist and 
Hindu temples. They are large whorled sea-shells 
of the whelk shape, such as sometimes ornament our 
mantels. The apex of the spiral is cut away and a 
mouthpiece cemented in its place, through which the 
instrument can be blown like a horn. If then the 
fingers be used to partly cover and vary the mouth 
of the shell, and at the same time the shell be 
vibrated to and fro in the air — what with its natural 
convolutions and these added complications, the 
most ear-rending and diabolically wavy bewilder- 



A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. 12 1 

ing and hollow sounds can be produced, such as 
might surely infect the most callous worshiper with 
a proper faith in the supernatural. 

The temper of the crowd too helped one to 
understand the old religious attitude. It was 
thoroughly whole-hearted — I cannot think of any 
other word. There was no piety — in our sense of 
the word — or very little, observable. They were 
just thoroughly enjoying themselves — a little 
excited no doubt by chanks and divine possibilities 
generally, but not subdued by awe ; talking freely 
to each other in low tones, or even indulging occa- 
sionally — the younger ones— in a little bear-fighting ; 
at the same time proud of the spectacle and the 
presence of the divinity, heart and soul in the cere- 
mony, and anxious to lend hands as torch-bearers or 
image -bearers, or in any way, to its successful issue. 
It is this temper which the wise men say is encouraged 
and purposely cultivated by the ceremonial institu- 
tions of Hinduism. The temple services are made 
to cover, as far as may be, the whole ground of life, 
and to provide the pleasures of the theatre, the art- 
gallery, the music hall and the concert-room in one. 
People attracted by these spectacles — which are very 
numerous and very varied in character, according to 
the different feasts — presently remain to inquire 
into their meaning. Some like the music, others 
the bright colors. Many men come at first merely 
to witness the dancing of the nautch girls, but after- 
wards and insensibly are drawn into spheres of 
more spiritual influence. Even the children find 
plenty to attract them, and the temple becomes 
their familiar resort from early life. 



122 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

The theory Is that all the ceremonies have Inner 
and mystic meanings — which meanings In due time 
are declared to those who are fit — and that thus the 
temple Institutions and ceremonies constitute a great 
ladder by which men can rise at last to those Inner 
truths which He beyond all formulas and are contained 
in no creed. Such Is the theory, but like all theories 
It requires large deductions before acceptance. 
That such theory was one of the formative Influ- 
ences of the Hindu ceremonial, and that the latter 
embodies here and there Important esoteric truths 
descending from Vedic times, I hardly doubt ; but 
on the other hand, time, custom and neglect, dif- 
ferent streams of tradition blending and blurring 
each other, reforms and a thousand Influences have 
— as In all such cases — produced a total concrete 
result which no one theory can account for or co- 
ordinate. 

Such were some of my thoughts as I watched 
the crowd around me. They too were not un- 
interested In watching me. The appearance of an 
Englishman under such circumstances was perhaps 
a little unusual, and scores of black eyes were 
turned inquiringly in my direction ; but covered as 
I was by the authority of my companion no one 
seemed to resent my presence. A few I thought 
looked shocked, but the most seemed rather pleased, 
as if proud that a spectacle so brilliant and impres- 
sive should be witnessed by a stranger — besides 
there were two or three among the crowd whom I 
happened to have met before and spoken with, and 
whose friendly glances made me feel at home. 

Meanwhile the gyrating raft had completed two 



A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. 1 23 

or three voyages round the little piece of water. 
Each time it returned to the shore fresh offerings 
were made to the god, the bell was rung again, 
a moment of hushed adoration followed, and then 
with fresh strains of mystic music a new start for 
the deep took place. What the inner signification 
of these voyages might be I had not and have not 
the faintest idea ; it is possible even that no one 
present knew. At the same time I do not doubt 
that the drama was originally instituted in order to 
commemorate some actual event or to symbolise 
some doctrine. On each voyage a hymn was sung 
or recited. On the first voyage the Brahman priest 
declaimed a hymn from the Vedas — a hymn that 
may have been written 3,000 years ago — nor was 
there anything in the whole scene which appeared 
to me discordant with the notion that the clock 
had been put back 3,000 years (though of course 
the actual new departure in the Brahmanical rites 
which we call Hinduism does not date back any- 
thing like so far as that). On the second voyage 
a Tamil hymn was sung by one of the youths 
trained in the temples for this purpose ; and on 
the third voyage another Tamil hymn, with inter- 
ludes of the most ecstatic caterwauling from chanks 
and bagpipes ! The remainder of the voyages I 
did not witness, as my conductor now took me to 
visit the interior of the temple. 

That is, as far as it was permissible to penetrate. 
For the Brahman priests who regulate these things, 
with far-sighted policy make it one of their most 
stringent rules that the laity shall not have access 
beyond a short distance into the temple, and 



124 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

heathen like myself are of course confined to the 
mere forecourts. Thus the people feel more awe 
and sanctity with regard to the holy place itself 
and the priests who fearlessly tread within than 
they do with regard to anything else connected with 
their religion. 

Having passed the porch, we found ourselves in 
a kind of entrance hall with one or two rows of 
columns supporting a flat wooden roof — the walls 
adorned with the usual rude paintings of various 
events in Siva's earthly career. On the right 
was a kind of shrine with a dancing figure of the 
god in relief — the perpetual dance of creation ; 
but unlike some of the larger temples, in which 
there is often most elaborate and costly stonework, 
everything here was of the plainest, and there was 
hardly anything in the way of sculpture to be seen. 
Out of this forecourt opened a succession of chambers 
into which one might not enter ; but the dwindling 
lights placed in each served to show distance after 
distance. In the extreme chamber farthest removed 
from the door, by which alone daylight enters — the 
rest of the interior being illumined night and day 
with artificial lights — is placed, surrounded by lamps, 
the most sacred object, the lingam. This of course 
was too far off to be discerned — and indeed it is, 
except on occasions, kept covered — but it appears 
that instead of being a rude image of the male 
organ (such as is frequently seen in the outer courts 
of these temples), the thing is a certain white stone, 
blue-veined and of an egg-shape, which is mys- 
teriously fished up — if the gods so will it — from the 
depths of the river Nerbudda, and only thence. 



A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. 1 25 

It Stands in the temple in the hollow of another 
oval-shaped object which represents the female 
yoni\ and the two together, embleming Siva and 
Sakti, stand for the sexual energy which pervades 
creation. 

Thus the worship of sex is found to lie at the 
root of the present Hinduism, as it does at the root 
of nearly all the primitive religions of the world. 
Yet it would be a mistake to conclude that such 
worship is a mere deification of material functions. 
Whenever it may have been that the Vedic prophets 
descending from Northern lands into India first 
discovered within themselves that capacity of spiri- 
tual ecstasy which has made them even down to to- 
day one of the greatest religious forces in the world, 
it is certain that they found (as indeed many of the 
mediaeval Christian seers at a later time also found) 
that this ecstasy had a certain similarity to the 
sexual rapture. In their hands therefore the rude 
phallic worships, which their predecessors had with 
true instinct celebrated, came to have a new mean- 
ing ; and sex itself, the most important of earthly 
functions, came to derive an even greater importance 
from its relation to the one supreme and heavenly 
fact, that of the soul's union with God. 

In the middle line of all Hindu temples, between 
the lingam and the door, are placed two other very 
sacred objects — the couchant bull Nandi and an 
upright ornamented pole, the Kampam, or as it is 
sometimes called, the flagstaff. In this case the bull 
was about four feet in length, carved in one block 
of stone, which from continual anointing by pious 
worshipers had become quite black and lustrous on 



126 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

the surface. In the great temple at Tanjore there 
Is a bull twenty feet long cut from a single block 
of syenite, and similar bull-images are to be found 
in great numbers in these temples, and of all sizes 
down to a foot in length, and in any accessible situa- 
tion are sure to be black and shining with oil. In 
Tamil the word pasu signifies both ox — i.e. the 
domesticated ox — and the souL Siva is frequently 
represented as riding on a bull ; and the animal 
represents the human soul which has become subject 
and affiliated to the god. As to the flagstaff, it was 
very plain, and appeared to be merely a wooden 
pole nine inches or so thick, slightly ornamented, 
and painted a dull red color. In the well-known 
temple at Madura the kampam is made of teak 
plated with gold, and is encircled with certain rings 
at intervals, and at the top three horizontal arms 
project, with little bell-like tassels hanging from 
them. This curious object has, it is said, a physio- 
logical meaning, and represents a nerve which 
passes up the median line of the body from the 
genital organs to the brain (? the great sympa- 
thetic). Indeed the whole disposition of the parts 
in these temples is supposed (as of course also in the 
Christian Churches) to represent the human body, 
and so also the universe of which the human body 
is only the miniature. I do not feel myself in a 
position however to judge how far these correspon- 
dences are exact. The inner chambers in this 
particular temple were, as far as I could see, very 
plain and unornamented. 

On coming out again into the open space in front 
of the porch, my attention was directed to some low 



A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. 12 J 

buildings which formed the priests' quarters. Two 
priests were attached to the temple, and a separate 
cottage was intended for any traveling priest or lay 
benefactor who might want accommodation within 
the precincts. 

And now the second act of the sacred drama was 
commencing. The god, having performed a suffi- 
cient number of excursions on the tank, was being 
carried back with ceremony to the space in front of 
the porch — where for some time had been standing, 
on portable platforms made of poles, three strange 
animal figures of more than life-size — a bull, a 
peacock, and a black creature somewhat resembling 
a hoe, but I do not know what it was meant for. 
On the back of the bull, which was evidently itself in 
an amatory and excited mood, Siva and Sakti were 
placed ; on the hog-like animal was mounted another 
bejewelled figure — that of Ganesa, Siva's son ; and 
on the peacock again the figure of his other son, 
Soubramanya. Camphor flame was again offered, and 
then a lot of stalwart and enthusiastic worshipers 
seized the poles, and mounting the platforms on 
their shoulders set themselves to form a procession 
round the temple on the grassy space between it and 
the outer wall. The musicians as usual went first, 
then came the dancing girls, and then after an 
interval of twenty or thirty yards the three animals 
abreast of each other on their platforms, and bearing 
their respective gods upon their backs. At this 
point we mingled with the crowd and were lost 
among the worshipers. And now again I was 
reminded of representations of antique religious 
processions. The people, going in front or follow- 



128 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

ing behind, or partly filling the space In front of the 
gods — though leaving a lane clear In the middle — 
were evidently getting elated and excited. They 
swayed their arms, took hands or rested them on 
each other s bodies, and danced rather than walked 
along ; sometimes their shouts mixed with the 
music ; the tall torches swayed to and fro, flaring to 
the sky and distilling burning drops on naked backs 
in a way which did not lessen the excitement ; the 
smell of hot coco-nut oil mingling with that of 
humanity made the air sultry ; and the great leaves 
of bananas and other palms leaning over and glisten- 
ing with the double lights of moon and torch flames 
gave a weird and tropical beauty to the scene/ 
In this rampant way the procession moved for a few 
yards, the men wrestling and sweating under the 
weight of the god-images, which according to ortho- 
dox ideas are always made of an alloy of the five 
metals known to the ancients — an alloy called 
panchaloka — and are certainly immensely heavy ; 
and then It came to a stop. The bearers rested 
their poles on strong crutches carried for the pur- 
pose, and while they took breath the turn of the 
nautch girls came. 

Most people are sufficiently familiar now-a-days, 
through Oriental exhibitions and the like, with the 

1 Mrs. Speir, in her Life in Ancient India, p. 374, says that we 
first hear of Siva worship about B.C. 300, and that it is described 
by Megasthenes as "celebrated in tumuUuous festivals, the wor- 
shippers anointing their bodies, wearing crowns of flowers, and 
sounding bells and cymbals. From which," she adds, "the 
Greeks conjectured that Siva worship was derived from Bacchus 
or Dionysos, and carried to the East in the traditionary expedition 
which Bacchus made in company with Hercules." 



A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. 



129 



dress and bearing of these Devadasis, or servants of 
God. '* They sweep the temple," says the author 
o{ Life in an Indian Village, '* ornament the floor 
with quaint figures drawn In rice flour, hold the 
sacred light before the god, fan him, and dance and 
sing when required." ''In the village of Kelamba- 
kam," he continues, " there are two dancing girls, 
Kanakambujam and MInakshl. K. Is the concu- 




NAUTCH GIRL. 



bine of a neighboring Mudelllar, and M. of Appala- 
charri the Brahman. But their services can be 
obtained by others." I will describe the dress of 
one of the four present on this occasion. She had 
on a dark velveteen tunic with quite short gold- 
edged sleeves, the tunic almost concealed from view 
by a very handsome scarf or sari such as the Indian 
women wear. This sari, made of crimson silk pro- 

K 



1 30 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

fusely ornamented with gold thread, was passed over 
one shoulder, and having been wound twice or thrice 
round the waist was made to hang down like a 
petticoat to a little below the knee. Below this 
appeared silk leggings of an orange color ; and 
heavy silver anklets crowned the naked feet. Hand- 
some gold bangles were on her arms (silver being 
usually worn below the waist and gold above), jewels 
and bell-shaped pendants in her nose and ears, and 
on her head rose-colored flowers pinned with gold 
brooches and profusely inwoven with the plaited 
black hair that hung down her back. The others 
with variations in color had much the same costume. 

To describe their faces is difficult. I think I 
seldom saw any so inanimately sad. It is part of 
the teaching of Indian women that they should 
never give way to the expression of feeling, or to 
any kind of excitement of manner, and this in the 
case of better types leads to a remarkable dignity 
and composure of bearing, such as is comparatively 
rare in the West, but in more stolid and ignorant 
sorts produces a most apathetic and bovine mien. 
In the case of these nautch women circumstances 
are complicated by the prostitution which seems to 
be the inevitable accompaniment of their profession. 
One might indeed think that it was distinctly a 
part of their profession — as women attached to the 
service of temples whose central idea is that of sex — 
but some of my Hindu friends assure me that this 
is not so : that they live where they like, that their 
dealings with the other sex are entirely their own 
affair, and are not regulated or recognised in any 
way by the temple authorities, and that it is only, so 



A NIGHT-FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. I3I 

to speak, an aecident that these girls enter into com- 
mercial relations with men — generally, it is admitted, 
with the wealthier of those who attend the services — 
an accident of course quite likely to occur, since they 
are presumably good-looking, and are early forced 
into publicity and out of the usual routine of domes- 
tic life. All the same, though doubtless these things 
are so now, I think it may fairly be supposed that 
the sexual services of these nautch girls were at one 
time a recognised part of their duty to the temple 
to which they were attached. Seeing indeed that 
so many of the religions of antiquity are known to 
have recognised services of this kind, seeing also 
that Hinduism did at least incorporate in itself 
primitive sexual worships, and seeing that there is 
no reason to suppose that such practices involved 
any slur in primitive times on those concerned In 
them — rather the reverse— I think we have at any 
rate a strong primi-facie case. It is curious too 
that, even to-day, notwithstanding the obvious 
drawbacks of their life, these girls are quite recog- 
nised and accepted in Hindu families of high stand- 
ing and respectability. When marriages take place 
they dress the bride, put on her jewels, and them- 
selves act as bridesmaids ; and generally speaking 
are much referred to as authorities on dress. What- 
ever, however, may have been the truth about the 
exact duties and position of the Devadasis in old 
times, the four figuring away there before their gods 
that night seemed to me to present but a melan- 
choly and effete appearance. They were small and 
even stunted in size, nor could it be said that any of 
them were decently good-looking. The face of the 



132 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

eldest — It was difficult to judge their age, but she 
might have been twenty — was the most expressive, 
but It was thin and exceedingly weary ; the faces of 
the others were the faces of children who had ceased 
to be children, yet to whom experience had brought 
no added capacity. 

These four waifs of womanhood, then, when the 
procession stopped, wheeled round, and facing the 
god approached him with movements which bore 
the remotest resemblance to a dance. Stretchlnof 
out their right hands and right feet together (In 
Itself an ungraceful movement) they made one step 
forward and to the right ; then doing the same with 
left hands and feet made a step In advance to the 
left. After repeating this two or three times they 
then, having first brought their finger points to 
their shoulders, extended their arms forward to- 
wards the deity, inclining themselves at the same 
time. This also was repeated, and then they moved 
back much as they had advanced. After a few 
similar evolutions, sometimes accompanied by chant- 
ing, they wheeled round again, and the procession 
moved forwards a few yards more. Thus we halted 
about half a dozen times before we completed the 
circuit of the temple, and each time had a similar 
performance. 

On coming round to the porch what might be 
called the third act commenced. The platform of 
the bull and the god Siva was — not without 
struggles — lowered to the ground so as to face the 
porch, the other two gods being kept In the back- 
ground ; and then the four girls, going Into the 
temple and bringing forth little oil-lamps, walked In 



A NIGHT- FESTIVAL IN A HINDU TEMPLE. 1 33 

single file round the image, followed by the musicians 
also in single file. These latter had all through the 
performance kept up an almost continuous blowing ; 
and their veined knotted faces and distended cheeks 
bore witness to the effort, not to mention the state 
of our own ears ! It must however in justice be 
said that the drone, the flageolet, and the trumpets 
were tuned to the same keynote, and their combined 
music alone would not have been bad ; but a chank- 
shell can no more be tuned than a zebra can be tamed, 
and when two of these instruments together, blown 
by two wiry old men obdurately swaying their heads, 
were added to the tumult, it seemed not impossible 
that one might go giddy and perhaps become theo- 
pneustos, at any moment. 

The show was now evidently culminating. The 
entry of the musicians into the temple, where their 
reverberations were simply appalling, was the signal 
for an inrush of the populace. We passed in with 
the crowd, and almost immediately Siva, lifted from 
the bull, followed borne in state under his parasol. 
He was placed on a stand In front of the side shrine 
in the forecourt already mentioned ; and a curtain 
being drawn before him, there was a momentary 
hush and awe. The priest behind the curtain (whom 
from our standpoint we could see) now made the 
final offerings of fruit, flowers and sandalwood, and 
lighted the five-branched camphor lamp for the last 
time. This burning of camphor is, like other things 
in the service, emblematic. The five lights repre- 
sent the ^v^ senses. As camphor consumes itself 
and leaves no residue behind, so should the five 
senses, being offered to God, consume themselves 



134 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

and disappear. When this Is done, that happens In 
the soul which was now figured In the temple ser- 
vice ; for as the last of the camphor burned itself 
away the veil was swiftly drawn aside — and there 
stood the Image of Siva revealed in a blaze of light. 
The service was now over. The priest distributed 
the offerings among the people ; the torches were 
put out ; and In a few minutes I was walking home- 
ward through the streets and wondering if 1 was 
really In the modern world of the 19th century. 



A VISIT TO A GNANI 



135 



139 



CHAPTER VIII. 

A VISIT TO A GNANL 

During my stay in Ceylon I was fortunate enough 
to make the acquaintance . of one of the esoteric 
teachers of the ancient reHgious mysteries. These 
Gurus or Adepts are to be found scattered allover 
the mainland of India; but they lead a secluded exist- 
ence, avoiding the currents of Western civilisation — 
which are obnoxious to them — and rarely come into 
contact with the English or appear on the surface 
of ordinary life. They are divided into two great 
schools, the Himalayan and South Indian — formed 
probably, even centuries back, by the gradual retire- 
ment of the adepts into the mountains and forests 
of their respective districts before the spread of 
foreign races and civilisations over the general con- 
tinent. The Himalayan school has carried on the 
more democratic and progressive Buddhistic tradition, 
while the South Indian has kept more to caste, and 
to the ancient Brahmanical and later Hindu lines. 
This separation has led to divergencies in philo- 
sophy, and there are even (so strong is sectional 
feeling in all ranges of human activity) slight 
jealousies between the adherents of the two schools ; 
but the differences are probably after all very super- 
ficial ; in essence their teaching and their work may 
I think be said to be the same. 



138 JP^<OM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

The teacher to whom I allude belongs to the 
South Indian school, and was only sojourning for a 
time in Ceylon. When I first made his acquaint- 
ance he was staying in the precincts of a Hindu 
temple. Passing through the garden and the 
arcade-like porch of the temple with its rude and 
grotesque frescoes of the gods — Siva astride the 
bull, Sakti, his consort, seated behind him, etc. — we 
found ourselves in a side-chamber, where seated on 
a simple couch, his bed and day-seat in one, was an 
elderly man (some seventy years of age, though he 
did not look nearly as much as that) dressed only 
in a white muslin wrapper wound loosely round his 
lithe and even active dark brown form : his head 
and face shaven a day or two past, very gentle and 
spiritual in expression, like the best type of Roman 
CathoHc priest — a very beautiful full and finely 
formed mouth, straight nose and well-formed chin, 
dark eyes, undoubtedly the eyes of a seer, dark- 
rimmed eyelids, and a powerful, prophetic, and withal 
childlike manner. He soon lapsed into exposition 
which he continued for an hour or two with but few 
interjections from his auditors. 

At a later time he moved into a little cottage where 
for several weeks I saw him nearly every day. Every 
day the same — generally sitting on his couch, with 
bare arms and feet, the latter often colled under him 
— only requiring a question to launch off into a long 
discourse — fluent, and even rapt, with ready and 
vivid illustration and long digressions, but always 
returning to the point. Though unfortunately my 
knowledge of Tamil was so slight that I could not 
follow his conversation and had to take advantage 



A VISIT TO A GNANI. 1 39 

of the services of a friend as Interpreter, still It was 
easy to see what a remarkable vigor and command 
of language the fellow had, what power of concen- 
tration on the subject In hand, and what a wealth of 
reference — especially citation from ancient authori- 
ties — wherewith to illustrate his discourse. 

Everything in the East is different from the West, 
and so are the methods of teaching. Teaching In 
the East Is entirely authoritative and traditional. 
That Is its strong point and also Its defect. The 
pupil is not expected to ask questions of a sceptical 
nature or expressive of doubt ; the teacher does not 
go about to " prove " his thesis to the pupil, or sup- 
port it with arguments drawn from the plane of the 
pupil's Intelligence ; he simply re-delivers to the 
pupil, In a certain order and sequence, the doctrines 
which were delivered to him In his time, which have 
been since verified by his own experience, and which 
he can illustrate by phrases and metaphors and cita- 
tions drawn from the sacred books. He has of course 
his own way of presenting the whole, but the body 
of knowledge which he thus hands down is purely 
traditional, and may have come along for thousands 
of years with little or no change. Originality plays 
no part in the teaching of the Indian Sages. The 
knowledge which they have to Impart is of a kind In 
which invention Is not required. It purports to be a 
knowledge of the original fact of the universe Itself — ■ 
something behind which no man can go. The West 
may originate, the West may present new views of 
the prime fact — the East only seeks to give to a man 
that fact itself, the supreme consciousness, undiffer- 
entiated, the key to all that exists. 



140 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

The Indian teachers therefore say there are as a 
rule three conditions of the attainment of Divine 
knowledge or gndnam : — (i) The study of the sacred 
books, (2) the help of a Guru, and (3) the verifi- 
cation of the tradition by one's own experience. 
Without this last the others are of course of no use ; 
and the chief aid of the Guru is directed to the 
instruction of the pupil in the methods by which he 
may attain to personal experience. The sacred 
books give the philosophy and some of the experi- 
ences of the gnditi or illuminated person, but they 
do not, except in scattered hints, give instruction as 
to how this illumination is to be obtained. The 
truth is, it is a question of evolution ; and it would 
neither be right that such instruction should be given 
to everybody, nor indeed possible, since even in the 
case of those prepared for it the methods must 
differ, according to the idiosyncrasy and character 
of the pupil. 

There are apparently isolated cases in which 
individuals attain to Gndnam throucrh their own 
spontaneous development, and without instruction 
from a Guru, but these are rare. As a rule every 
man who is received into the body of Adepts re- 
ceives his initiation through another Adept who 
himself received it from a fore-runner, and the whole 
constitutes a kind of church or brotherhood, with 
genealogical branches so to speak — the line of 
adepts from which a man descends being imparted 
to him on his admission into the fraternity. I need 
not say that this resembles the methods of the ancient 
mysteries and initiations of classic times; and indeed 
the Indian teachers claim that the Greek and 



A VISIT TO A GNANI. I4I 

Egyptian and other Western schools of arcane 
lore were merely branches, more or less degenerate, 

rOjf their own. 

' The course of preparation for Gnanam is called 
yogam, and the person who is going through this 
stage is called 2. yogi — from the root yog, to join — 
one who is seeking junction with the universal spirit. 
Yogis are common all over India, and exist among 
all classes and in various forms. Some emaciate 
themselves and torture their bodies, others seek only 
control over their minds, some retire into the jungles 
and mountains, others frequent the cities and exhibit 
themselves in the crowded fairs, others again carry 
on the avocations of daily life with but little change 
of outward habit. Some are humbugs, led on by 
vanity or greed of gain (for to give to a holy man 
is highly meritorious) ; others are genuine students 
or philosophers ; some are profoundly imbued with 
the religious sense, others by mere distaste for the 
world. The majority probably take to a wandering 
life of the body, some become wandering in mind ; 
a great many attain to phases of clairvoyance and 
abnormal power of some kind or other, and a very 
few become adepts of a high order. 

Anyhow the matter cannot be understood unless 
it is realised that this sort of religious retirement is 
thoroughly accepted and acknowledged all over 
India, and excites no surprise or special remark. 
Only some five or six years ago the son of the late 
Rajah of Tanjore — a man of some forty or fifty 
years of age, and of course the chief native personage 
in that part of India — made up his mind to become 
a devotee. He one day told his friends he was 



142 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

going on a railway journey, sent off his servants and 
carriages from the palace to the station, saying he 
would follow, gave them the slip, and has never beew 
heard of since ! His friends went to the man who 
was known to have been acting as his Guru, who 
simply told them, " You will never find him." Sup- 
posing the G.O. M. or the Prince of Wales were 
to retire like this — how odd it would seem ! 

To illustrate this subject I may tell the story of 
Tilleinathan Swamy, who was the teacher of the 
Guru whose acquaintance I am referring to in this 
chapter. Tilleinathan was a wealthy shipowner of 
high family. In 1850 he devoted himself to reli- 
gious exercises, till 1855, when he became "emanci- 
pated." After his attainment he felt sick of the 
world, and so he wound up his affairs, divided all his 
goods and money among relations and dependents, 
and went off stark naked into the woods. His 
mother and sisters were grieved and repeatedly pur- 
sued him, offering to surrender all to him if he would 
only return. At last he simply refused to answer 
their importunities, and they desisted. He appeared 
in Tanjore after that in '57, '59, '64 and '72, but 
has not been seen since. He is supposed to be 
living somewhere in the Western Ghauts. 

In '58 or '59, at the close of the Indian Mutiny, 
when search was beina made for Nana Sahib, it 
was reported that the Nana was hiding himself 
under the garb (or no garb) of an " ascetic," and 
orders were issued to detain and examine all such 
people. Tilleinathan was taken and brought before 
the sub-magistrate at Tanjore, who told him the 
Government orders, and that he must dress himself 



A VISIT TO A GNANI. 1 43 

properly. At the same time the sub-magistrate, hav- 
ing a friendly feeling for T. and guessing that he 
would refuse obedience, had brought a wealthy mer- 
chant with him, whom he had persuaded to stand bail 
for Tilleinathan in such emergency. When however 
the merchant saw Tilleinathan, he expressed his 
doubts about standing bail for him — whereupon T. 
said, " Quite right, it is no good your standing bail 
for me ; the English Government itself could not 
stand bail for one who creates and destroys Govern- 
ments. I will be bail for myself" The sub-magis- 
trate then let him go. 

But on the matter being reported at head-quarters 
the sub. was reprimanded, and a force, consisting of 
an inspector and ten men (natives of course), was 
sent to take Tilleinathan. He at first refused and 
threatened them, but on the inspector pleading that 
he would be dismissed if he returned with empty 
hands T. consented to come " in order to save the 
inspector." They came into full court — as it hap- 
pened — before the collector (Morris), who imme- 
diately reprimanded T. for his mad costume ! "It 
is you that are mad," said the latter, '' not to know 
that this is my right costume," — and he proceeded 
to explain the four degrees of Hindu probation and 
emancipation. (These are, of course, the four stages 
of student, householder, yogi and gfiani. Everyone 
who becomes a gfiani must pass through the other 
three stages. Each stage has its appropriate costume 
and rules ; the yogi wears a yellow garment ; the 
gfiani is emancipated from clothing, as well as from 
all other troubles.) 

Finally T. again told the collector that he was a 



144 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

fool, and that he T. would punish him. " What will 
you do ? " said the collector. '' If you don't do 
justice I will burn you," was the reply ! At this 
the mass of the people in court trembled, believing 
no doubt implicitly in T.'s power to fulfil his threat. 
The collector however told the inspector to read 
the Lunacy Act to Tilleinathan, but the inspector's 
hand shook so that he could hardly see the words — • 
till T. said, " Do not be afraid — I will explain it to 
you." He then gave a somewhat detailed account 
of the Act, pointed out to the collector that it did 
not apply to his own case, and ended by telling him 
once more that he was a fool. The collector then 
let him go ! 

Afterwards Morris — having been blamed for let- 
ting the man go — and Beauchamp (judge), who had 
been rather impressed already by T.'s personality, 
went together and with an escort to the house in Tan- 
jore in w^hich Tilleinathan was then staying — with 
an undefined intention, apparently, of arresting him. 
T. then asked them if they thought he was under 
their Government — to which the Englishmen replied 
that they were not there to argue philosophy but to 
enforce the law. T. asked how they would enforce 
it. *' We have cannons and men behind us," said 
Morris. " And I," said T., " can also bring cannons 
and forces greater than yours." They then left 
him again, and he was no more troubled. 

This story is a little disappointing in that no 
miracles come off, but I tell it as it was told to me 
by the Guru, and my friend A. having heard it 
substantially the same from other and independent 
witnesses at Tanjore it may be taken as giving a 



A VISIT TO A GNANI. 1 45 

fairly correct Idea of the kind of thm<r that occasion- 
ally happens. No doubt the collector would look 
uponTilleinathan as a "luny" — and from other stories 
I have heard of him (his utter obliviousness of ordi- 
nary conventionalities and proprieties, that he would 
lie down to sleep in the middle of the street to the 
great inconvenience of traffic, that he would some- 
times keep on repeating a single vacant phrase over 
and over again for half a day, etc.), such an opinion 
might, 1 should say, fairly be justified. Yet at the 
same time there is no doubt he was a very remark- 
able man, and the deep reverence with which our 
friend the Guru spoke of him was obviously not 
accorded merely to the abnormal powers which he 
seems at times to have manifested, but to the pro- 
fundity and breadth of his teaching and the personal 
grandeur which prevailed through all his eccentri- 
cities. 

It was a common and apparently instinctive prac- 
tice with him to speak of the great operations of 
Nature, the thunder, the wind, the shining of the 
sun, etc., in the first person, " I " — the identification 
with, or non-differentiation from, the universe (which 
Is the most important of esoteric doctrines) being in 
his case complete. So also the democratic character 
of his teaching surpassed even our Western records. 
He would take a pariah dog — the most scorned of 
creatures — and place it round his neck (compare the 
pictures of Christ with a lamb In the same attitude), 
or even let It eat out of one plate with himself ! One 
day. In Tanjore, when Importuned for instruction by 
five or six disciples, he rose up and saying, " Follow 
me," went through the streets to the edge of a brook 

L 



146 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

which divided the pariah village from the town — a 
line which no Hindu of caste will ever cross — and 
stepping over the brook bade them enter the defiled 
ground. This ordeal however his followers could 
not endure, and — except one — they all left him. 

Tilleinathan's pupil, the teacher of whom I am 
presently speaking, is married and has a wife and 
children. Most of these " ascetics " think nothing of 
abandoning their families when the call comes to 
them, and of going to the woods perhaps never to be 
seen again. He however has not done this, but lives 
on quietly at home at Tanjore. Thirty or forty years 
ago he was a kind of confidential friend and adviser to 
the then reigning prince of Tanjore, and was well up 
in traditional state-craft and politics ; and even only 
two or three years ago took quite an active interest 
in the National Indian Congress. His own name was 
Ramaswamy, but he acquired the name Eliikhanam, 
" the Grammarian," on account of his proficiency in 
Tamil grammar and philosophy, on which subject 
he was quite an authority, even before his initiation. 

Tamil is a very remarkable, and indeed complex 
language — rivaling the Sanskrit in the latter respect. 
It belongs to the Dravidian group, and has few 
Aryan roots in it except what have been borrowed 
from Sanskrit. It contains however an extraordi- 
nary number of philosophical terms, of which some 
are Sanskrit in their origin, but many are entirely 
its own ; and like the people it forms a strange 
blend of practical qualities with the most inveterate 
occultism. " Tamil," says the author of an article in 
the Theosophist for November, '90, '' is one of the 
oldest languages of India, If not of the world. Its 



A VISIT TO A GNANI. 1 47 

birth and Infancy are enveloped In mythology. As 
in the case of Sanskrit, we cannot say when Tamil 
became a literary language. The oldest Tamil 
works extant belong to a time, about 2,000 years 
ago, of high and cultured refinement In Tamil poetic 
literature. All the religious and philosophical poetry 
of Sanskrit has become fused Into Tamil, which 
language contains a larger number of popular trea- 
tises In Occultism, Alchemy, etc., than even Sanskrit ; 
and It is now the only spoken language of India 
that abounds in occult treatises on various subjects." 
Going on to speak of the Tamil Adepts, the author 
of this article says : *'The popular belief Is that there 
were eighteen brotherhoods of Adepts scattered 
here and there. In the mountains and forests of the 
Tamil country, and presided over by eighteen Sad- 
hoos ; and that there was a grand secret brotherhood 
composed of the eighteen Sadhoos, holding Its meet- 
ings In the hills of the Agasthya Kiitam In the 
Tinnevelly district. Since the advent of the English 
and their mountaineering and deforestation, these 
occultists have retired far Into the Interior of the 
thick jungles on the mountains ; and a large number 
have, it is believed, altogether left these parts for 
more congenial places In the Himalayan ranges. It 
is owing to their Influence that the Tamil language 
has been Inundated, as It were, with a vast number 
of works on esoteric philosophy. The works of 
Agasthya Muni alone ^ would fill a whole library. 
The chief and only object of these brotherhoods has 
been to popularise esoteric truths and bring them 
home to the masses. So great and so extensive is 

^ Or those ascribed to him. 



148 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

their Influence that the Tamil Hterature is permeated 
with esoteric truths in all its ramifications." In fact 
the object of this article is to point out the vast num- 
ber of proverbs and popular songs, circulating among 
the Tamils to-day, which conceal under frivolous 
guise the most profound mystic truths. The gram- 
mar too — as I suppose was the case in Sanskrit — is 
linked to the occult philosophy of the people. 

To return to the Teacher, besides state-craft and 
grammar he is well versed in matters of law, and not 
unfrequently tackles a question of this kind for the 
help of his friends ; and has some practical know- 
ledge of medicine, as well as of cookery, which he 
considers important in its relation to health (the 
divine health, Sitkham). It will thus be seen that 
he is a man of good practical ability and acquaint- 
ance with the world, and not a mere dreamer, as is 
too often assumed by Western critics to be the case 
with all those who seek the hidden knowledge of the 
East. In fact it is one of the remarkable points of 
the Hindu philosophy that practical knowledge of life 
is expressly inculcated as a preliminary stage to ini- 
tiation. A man must be a householder before he be- 
comes a yogi ; and familiarity with sexual experience 
instead of being reprobated is rather encouraged, in 
order that having experienced one may in time pass 
beyond it. Indeed it is not unfrequently maintained 
that the early marriage of the Hindus Is advan- 
tageous in this respect, since a couple married at the 
age of fifteen or sixteen have by the time they are 
forty a grown-up family launched in life, and having 
circled worldly experience are then free to dedicate 
themselves to the work of " emancipation." 



A VISIT TO A GNANI. 1 49 

During his yoga period, which lasted about three 
years, his wife was very good to him and assisted 
him all she could. He was enjoined by his own 
teacher to refrain from speech and did so for about 
a year and a half, passing most of his time in fixed 
attitudes of meditation, and only clapping his hands 
when he wanted food, etc. Hardly anything show^s 
more strongly the hold which these religious Ideas 
have upon the people than the common willingness 
of the women to help their husbands in works of 
this kind, which beside the sore inconvenience of 
them, often deprive the family of its very means 
of subsistence and leave it dependent on the help of 
relations and others. But so it is. It is difficult 
for a Westerner even to begin to realise the con- 
ditions and inspirations of life in the East. 

Refraint from speech is not a necessary condition 
of initiation, but It Is enjoined in some cases. 
(There might be a good many cases among the 
Westerners where it would be very desirable — with 
or without initiation !) *' Many practising," said the 
Guru one day, " have not spoken for twelve years — 
so that when freed they had lost the power of 
speech — babbled like babies — and took some time to 
recover it. But for two or three years you experience 
no disability." " During my initiation," he added, 
'' I often wandered about the woods all night, and 
many times saw wild beasts, but they never harmed 
me — as indeed they cannot harm the initiated." 

At the present time he lives (when at home) a 
secluded life, mostly absorbed in trance conditions 
— his chief external interest no doubt being the teach- 
ing of such people as are led to him, or he is led to 



1 50 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

instruct. When however he takes up any practical 
work he throws himself into it with that power and 
concentration which is peculiar to a '' Master," and 
which is the natural corollary of the power of ab- 
straction when healthily used. 

Among their own people these Gurus often have 
small circles of disciples, who receive the instruction 
of their master and in return are ever ready to 
attend upon his wants. Sometimes such little 
parties sit up all night alternately reading the sacred 
books and absorbing themselves in meditation. It 
appears that Elukhanam's mother became his pupil 
and practised according to instructions, making good 
progress. One day however she told her son that 
she should die that night. " What, are you ill ? " 
he said. " No," she replied, '* but I feel that I shall 
die." Then he asked her what she desired to be 
done with her body. '' Oh, tie a rope to it and 
throw it out into the street," was her reply — meaning 
that it did not matter — a very strong expression, 
considering caste regulations on the subject. Nothing 
more was said, but that night at 3 a.m. as they and 
some friends were sitting up (cross-legged on the 
floor as usual) reading one of the sacred books, one 
of those present said, " But your mother does not 
move," — and she was dead. 

When in Ceylon our friend was only staying tem- 
porarily in a cottage, with a servant to look after 
him, and though exceedingly animated and vigorous 
as I have described, when once embarked in expo- 
sition — capable of maintaining his discourse for 
hours with unflagging concentration — yet the moment 
such external call upon his faculties was at an end. 



A VISIT TO A GNANI. 15I 

the interest that it had excited seemed to be en- 
tirely wiped from his mind ; and the latter returned 
to that state of interior meditation and absorption 
in the contemplation of the world disclosed to the 
inner sense, which had apparently become his nor- 
mal condition. 

I was in fact struck, and perhaps a little shocked, 
by the want of interest in things and persons around 
him displayed by the great man — not that, as I 
have said, he was not very helpful and considerate in 
special cases — but evidently that part of his nature 
which held him to the actual world was thinning 
out ; and the personalities of attendants and of those 
he might have casual dealings with, or even the 
scenes and changes of external nature, excited in 
him only the faintest response. 

As I have said he seemed to spend the greater 
part of the twenty-four hours wrapt in contempla- 
tion, and this not in the woods, but in the interior 
of his own apartment. As a rule he only took a 
brief half-hour's walk mornings and evenings, just 
along the road and back again, and this was the 
only time he passed out of doors. Certainly this 
utter independence of external conditions — the very 
small amount of food and exercise and even of sleep 
that he took, combined with the great vigor that 
he was capable of putting forth on occasion both 
bodily and mentally, and the perfect control he had 
over his faculties — all seemed to suggest the idea of 
his having access to some interior source of strength 
and nourishment. And indeed the general doctrine 
that the gfiani can thus attain to independence and 
maintain his body from interior sources alone (eat 



152 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

of the " hidden manna ") Is one much cherished by 
the Hindus, and which our friend was never tired 
of insisting on. 

Finally, his face, while showing the attributes of 
the seer, the externally penetrating quick eye, and 
the expression of illiLmination — the deep mystic 
light within — showed also the prevailing sentiment 
of happiness behind it. Sandosiam, Sandosiam 
eppothain—'' Joy, always joy " — was his own ex- 
pression, oft repeated. 

Perhaps I have now said enough to show — what 
of course was sufficiently evident to me — that, how- 
ever it may be disguised under trivial or even In 
some cases repellent coverings, there is some reality 
beneath all these — some body of real experience, of 
no little value and importance, which has been 
attained In India by a portion at any rate of those 
who have claimed it, and which has been handed 
down now through a vast number of centuries 
among the Hindu peoples as their most cherished 
and precious possession. 



CHAPTER IX. 

CONSCIOUSNESS WITHOUT THOUGHT. 

The question is, What is this experience ? or rather 
— since an experience can really only be known to 
the person who experiences it — we may ask, '' What 
is the nature of this experience ? " And in trying 
to indicate an answer of some kind to this question 
I feel considerable diffidence, just for the very 
reason (for one) already mentioned — namely that it 
is so difficult or impossible for one person to give a 
true account of an experience which has occurred 
to another. If I could give the exact words of the 
teacher, without any bias derived either from myself 
or the interpreting friend, the case might be dif- 
ferent ; but that I cannot pretend to do ; and if I 
could, the old-world scientific forms in which his 
thoughts were cast would probably only prove a 
stumbling-block and a source of confusion, instead 
of a help, to the reader. Indeed, even in the case 
of the sacred books, where we have a good deal of 
accessible and authoritative information, Western 
critics though for the most part agreeing that there 
is some real experience underlying, are sadly at 
variance as to what that experience may be. 

For these reasons I prefer not to attempt or pre- 
tend to give the exact teaching, unbiassed, of the 
Indian Gurus, or their experiences; but only to 



I 54 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

indicate as far as I can, in my own words, and in 
modern thought- forms, what I take to be the direc- 
tion in which we must look for this ancient and 
world-old knowledge which has had so stupendous 
an influence in the East, and which indeed is still 
the main mark of its difference from the West. 

And first let me guard against an error which is 
likely to arise. It is very easy to assume, and very 
frequently assumed, in any case where a person is 
credited with the possession of an unusual faculty, 
that such person is at once lifted out of our sphere 
into a supernatural region, and possesses every 
faculty of that region. If for instance he or she is 
or is supposed to be clairvoyant, it is assumed that 
eve7ythiug is or ought to be known to them ; or 
if the person has shown what seems a miraculous 
power at any time or in any case, it is asked by 
way of discredit why he or she did not show 
a like power at other times or in other cases. 
Against all such hasty generalisations it is necessary 
to guard ourselves. If there is a higher form of 
consciousness attainable by man than that which he 
for the most part can claim at present, it is pro- 
bable, nay certain, that it is evolving and will evolve 
but slowly, and with many a slip and hesitant pause 
by the way. In the far past of man and the animals 
consciousness of sensation and consciousness of self 
have been successively evolved — each of these 
mighty growths with innumerable branches and 
branchlets continually spreading. At any point in 
this vast experience, a new growth, a new form of 
consciousness, might well have seemed miraculous. 
What could be more marvelous than the first re- 



CONSCIOUSNESS WITHOUT THOUGHT. I 55 

vealment of the sense of sight, what more incon- 
ceivable to those who had not experienced it, and 
what more certain than that the first use of this 
faculty must have been fraught with delusion and 
error ? Yet there may be an inner vision which 
again transcends sight, even as far as sight trans- 
cends touch. It is more than probable that in the 
hidden births of time there lurks a consciousness 
which is not the consciousness of sensation and 
which is not the consciousness of self — or at least 
which includes and entirely surpasses these — a con- 
sciousness in which the contrast between the eo^o 
and the external world, and the distinction between 
subject and object, fall away. The part of the 
world into which such a consciousness admits us 
(call it supra77titndane or whatever you will) is pro- 
bably at least as vast and complex as the part we 
know, and progress in that region at least equally 
slow and tentative and various, laborious, discon- 
tinuous, and uncertain. There is no sudden leap 
out of the back parlor onto Olympus ; and the 
routes, when found, from one to the other, are long 
and bewildering in their variety. 

And of those who do attain to some portion of 
this region, we are not to suppose that they are at 
once demi-gods, or infallible. In many cases indeed 
the very novelty and strangeness of the experiences 
give rise to phantasmal trains of delusive specula- 
tion. Though we should expect, and though it is 
no doubt true on the whole, that what we should call 
the higher types of existing humanity are those most 
likely to come into possession of any new faculties 
which may be flying about, yet it is not always so ; 



156 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

and there are cases, well recognised, in which per- 
sons of decidedly deficient or warped moral nature 
attain powers which properly belong to a high grade 
of evolution, and are correspondingly dangerous 
thereby. 

All this, or a great part of it, the Indian teachers 
insist on. They say — and I think this commends 
the reality of their experience — that there is nothing 
abnormal or miraculous about the matter ; that the 
faculties acquired are on the whole the result of long 
evolution and training, and that they have distinct 
laws and an order of their own. They recognise 
the existence of persons of a demonic faculty, who 
have acquired powers of a certain grade without 
corresponding moral evolution ; and they admit the 
rarity of the highest phases of consciousness and 
the fewness of those at present fitted for its attain- 
ment. 

With these little provisos then established I think 
we may go on to say that what the Gnani seeks 
and obtains is a new order of consciousness — to 
which for want of a better we may give the name 
universal or cosmic consciousness, in contradistinc- 
tion to the individual or special bodily consciousness 
with which we are all familiar. I am not aware that 
the exact equivalent of this expression " universal 
consciousness" is used in the Hindu philosophy; 
but the Sat-chit-diianda Brahj^t to which every yogi 
aspires indicates the same idea : sat, the reality, the 
all pervading ; chit, the knowing, perceiving ; dn- 
anda, the blissful — all these united in one manifesta- 
tion of Brahm. 

The West seeks the individual consciousness — 



CONSCIOUSNESS WITHOUT THOUGHT. 1 57 

the enriched mind, ready perceptions and memories, 
individual hopes and fears, ambitions, loves, con- 
quests — the self, the local self, in all its phases and 
forms — and sorely doubts whether such a thing 
as an universal consciousness exists. The East 
seeks the universal consciousness, and in those cases 
where its quest succeeds individual self and life thin 
away to a mere film, and are only the shadows cast 
by the glory revealed beyond. 

The individual consciousness takes the form of 
Thought, which is fluid and mobile like quicksilver, 
perpetually in a state of change and unrest, fraught 
with pain and effort ; the other consciousness is 7iot 
in the form of Thought. It touches, sees, hears, 
and is these things which it perceives — without 
motion, without change, without effort, without dis- 
tinction of subject and object, but with a vast and 
incredible Joy. 

The individual consciousness is specially related 
to the body. The organs of the body are in some 
degree its organs. But the whole body is only as 
one organ of the cosmic consciousness. To attain 
this latter one must have the power of knowing 
one's self separate from the body, of passing into a 
state of ecstasy in fact. Without this the cosmic 
consciousness cannot be experienced. 

It is said : — >' There are four main experiences in 
initiation, (i) the meeting with a Guru, (2) the con- 
sciousness of Grace, or A7'itl (which may perhaps be 
interpreted as the consciousness of a change — even 
of a physiological change — -working within one), 
(3) the vision of Siva (God), with which the know- 
ledge of one's self as distinct from the body is closely 



158 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

connected, (4) the finding of the universe within." 
" The wise," it is also said, " when their thoughts 
cease to move perceive within themselves the 
Absolute consciousness, which is Sarva sakski, 
Witness of all things." 

Great have been the disputes among the learned 
as to the meaning of the word Nirwana — whether 
it indicates a state of no-consciousness or a state 
of vastly enhanced consciousness. Probably both 
views have their justification : the thing does not 
admit of definition in the terms of ordinary language. 
The important thing to see and admit is that under 
cover of this and other similar terms there does 
exist a real and recognisable fact (that is a state of 
consciousness in some sense), which has been ex- 
perienced over and over again, and which to those 
who have experienced it in ever so slight a degree 
has appeared worthy of lifelong pursuit and devo- 
tion. It is easy of course to represent the thing as 
a mere word, a theory, a speculation of the dreamy 
Hindu; but people do not sacrifice their lives for 
empty words, nor do mere philosophical abstractions 
rule the destinies of continents. No, the word re- 
presents a reality, something very basic and inevit- 
able in human nature. The question really is not 
to define the fact — for we cannot do that — but to 
get at and experience it. 

It is interesting at this juncture to find that 
modern Western science, which has hitherto — ^with- 
out much result — ^been occupying itself with me- 
chanical theories of the universe, is approaching 
from its side this idea of the existence of another 
form of consciousness. The extraordinary pheno- 



CONSCIOUSNESS WITHOUT THOUGHT. 1 59 

mena of hypnotism — which no doubt are in some 
degree related to the subject we are discussing, and 
which have been recognised for ages in the East — - 
are forcing Western scientists to assume the exist- 
ence of the so-called secondary consciousness in the 
body. The phenomena seem really inexplicable 
without the assumption of a secondary agency of 
some kind, and it every day becomes increasingly 
difficult 7iot to use the word consciousness to de- 
scribe it. 

Let it be understood that I am not for a moment 
assuming that this secondary consciousness of the 
hypnotists is in all respects identical with the cos- 
mic consciousness (or whatever we may call it) of 
the Eastern occultists. It may or may not be. The 
two kinds of consciousness may cover the same 
ground, or they may only overlap to a small extent. 
That is a question I do not propose to discuss. 
The point to which I wish to draw attention is that 
Western science is envisaging the possibility of the 
existence in man of another consciousness of some 
kind, beside that with whose working we are 
familiar. It quotes (A. Moll) the case of Barkworth 
who " can add up long rows of figures while carrying 
on a lively discussion, without allowing his attention 
to be at all diverted from the discussion " ; and asks 
us how Barkworth can do this unless he has a 
secondary consciousness which occupies itself with 
the figures while his primary consciousness is in the 
thick of argument. Here is a lecturer (F. Myers) 
who for a whole minute allows his mind to wander 
entirely away from the subject in hand, and imagines 
himself to be sittings beside a friend in the audience 



i6o FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

and to be engaged In conversation with him, and 
who wakes up to find himself still on the platform 
lecturing away with perfect ease and coherency. 
What are we to say to such a case as that ? Here 
again is a pianist who recites a piece of music by 
heart, and finds that his recital is actually hindered 
by allowing his mind (his primary consciousness) to 
dwell upon what he is doing. It Is sometimes sug- 
gested that the very perfection of the musical per- 
formance shows that it is mechanical or unconscious, 
but is this a fair inference ? and would it not seem 
to be a mere contradiction in terms to speak of an 
unconscious lecture, or an unconscious addition of 
a row of figures ? 

Many actions and processes of the body, e.g. 
swallowing, are attended by distinct personal con- 
sciousness ; many other actions and processes are 
quite unperceived by the same ; and it might seem 
reasonable to suppose that these latter at any rate 
were purely mechanical and devoid of any mental 
substratum. But the later developments of hypno- 
tism in the West have shown — what is well known 
to the Indian fakirs — that under certain conditions 
consciousness of the internal actions and processes 
of the body can be obtained ; and not only so, but 
consciousness of events taking place at a distance 
from the body and without the ordinary means of 
communication. 

Thus the idea of another consciousness. In some 
respects of wider range than the ordinary one, and 
having methods of perception of Its own, has been 
gradually infiltrating itself into Western minds. 

There is another idea, which modern science has 



CONSCIOUSNESS WITHOUT THOUGHT. l6l 

been famlliarisine us with, and which Is brino^Inof us 
towards the same conception — that namely of the 
fourth dimension. The supposition that the actual 
world has four space-dimensions instead of three 
makes many things conceivable which otherwise 
would be incredible. It makes it conceivable that 
apparently separate objects, e.g. distinct people, are 
really physically united; that things apparently sun- 
dered by enormous distances of space are really quite 
close together; that a person or other object might 
pass in and out of a closed room without disturbance 
of walls, doors, or windows, etc. ; and if this fourth 
dimension were to become a factor of our conscious- 
ness it is obvious that we should have means of 
knowledge which to the ordinary sense would 
appear simply miraculous. There is much appar- 
ently to suggest that the consciousness attained to 
by the Indian gfianis in their degree, and by 
hypnotic subjects in theirs is of this fourth-dimen- 
sional order. 

As a solid is related to its own surfaces, so, it would 
appear, is the cosmic consciousness related to the 
ordinary consciousness. The phases of the personal 
consciousness are but different facets of the other 
consciousness ; and experiences which seem remote 
from each other in the individual are perhaps all 
equally near in the universal. Space itself, as we 
know it, may be practically annihilated in the con- 
sciousness of a larger space of which it is but the 
superficies ; and a person living in London may not 
unlikely find that he has a backdoor opening quite 
simply and unceremoniously out in Bombay. 

" The true quality of the soul," said the Guru one 

M 



1 62 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

day, '' Is that of space, by which It Is at rest, every- 
where. But this space (Akasa) within the soul 
Is far above the ordinary material space. The 
whole of the latter, including all the suns and stars, 
appears to you then as it were but an atom of the 
former" — and here he held up his fingers as though 
crumbling a speck of dust between them. 

'*At rest everywhere," 'Tndifference," ''Equality." 
This was one of the most remarkable parts of the 
Guru's teaching. Though (for family reasons) main- 
taining many of the observances of Caste himself, 
and though holding and teaching that for the mass 
of the people caste rules were quite necessary, he 
never ceased to insist that when the time came for 
a man (or woman) to be " emancipated " all these 
rules must drop aside as of no importance — all dis- 
tinction of castes, classes, all sense of superiority or 
self-goodness — of right and wrong even — and the 
most absolute sense of Equality must prevail towards 
every one, and determination In Its expression. 
Certainly it was remarkable (though I knew that 
the sacred books contained It) to fmd this germinal 
principle of Western democracy so vividly active 
and at work deep down beneath the innumerable 
layers of Oriental social life and custom. But so it 
Is ; and nothing shows better the relation between 
the West and the East than this fact. 

This sense of Equality, of Freedom from regula- 
tions and confinements, of Inclusiveness, and of the 
Life that "rests everywhere," belongs of course more 
to the cosmic or universal part of man than to the in- 
dividual part. To the latter it is always a stumbling- 
block and an offence. It is easy to show that men 



CONSCIOUSNESS WITHOUT THOUGHT. 1 63, 

are not equal, that they cannot be free, and to point 
the absurdity of a Hfe that is indifferent and at rest 
under all conditions. Nevertheless to the larger 
consciousness these are basic facts, which underlie 
the common life of humanity, and feed the very 
individual that denies them. 

Thus repeating the proviso that in using such 
terms as cosmic and universal consciousness we do 
not commit ourselves to the theory that the instant 
a man leaves the personal part of him he enters into 
absolutely unlimited and universal knowledge, but 
only into a higher order of perception — and admit- 
ting the intricacy and complexity of the region so 
roughly denoted by these terms, and the micro- 
scopical character of our knowledge about it — we 
may say once more, also as a roughest generalisation, 
that the quest of the East has been this universal 
consciousness, and that of the West the personal or 
individual consciousness. As is well known the East 
has its various sects and schools of philosophy, with 
subtle discriminations of qualities, essences, god- 
heads, devilhoods, etc., into which I do not propose 
to go, and which I should feel myself quite incom- 
petent to deal with. Leaving all these aside, I will 
keep simply to these two rough Western terms, and 
try to consider further the question of the methods 
by which the Eastern student sets himself to obtain 
the cosmic state, or such higher order of conscious- 
ness as he does encompass. 



CHAPTER X. 

METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. 

The subject of the methods used by the yogis for 
the attainment of another order of consciousness 
has its physical, its mental, and its moral sides — and 
doubtless other sides as well. 

Beginning with the physical side, it is probable 
that the discounting or repression of the physical 
brain — or of that part of it which is the seat of the 
primary consciousness — Is the most important : on 
the theory that the repression of the primary con- 
sciousness opens the way for the manifestation of 
any other consciousness that may be present. Thus 
hypnotism lulls or fatigues the ordinary brain into 
a corhplete torpor — so allowing the phenomena 
connected with the secondary consciousness to come 
out into the greater prominence. It need not be 
supposed that hypnotism induces the secondary con- 
sciousness, but only that it removes that other con- 
sciousness which ordinarily conceals or hinders its 
expression. Some of the methods adopted by the 
yogis are undoubtedly of this hypnotic character, 
such as the sitting or standing for long periods 
absolutely fixed In one position ; staring at the sun 
or other object ; repeating a word or phrase over 
and over again for thousands of times, etc. ; and the 
clairvoyant and other results produced seem in many 

164 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. 1 65 

respects very similar to the results of Western 
hypnotism. The yogi however by immense per- 
sistence in his practices, and by using his own will 
to effect the change of consciousness, instead of 
surrendering himself into the power of another 
person, seems to be able to transfer his '' I " or 
eo-o into the new region, and to remember on his 
return to ordinary consciousness what he has seen 
there ; whereas the hypnotic subject seems to be 
divided into a double e^-o, and as a rule remembers 
nothing in the primary state of what occurred to 
him in the secondary. 

Others of the yogis adopt prolonged fasting, 
abstinence from sleep, self-torture and emaciation, 
with the same object, namely the reduction of the 
body, and apparently with somewhat similar results 
— though in these cases not only insight is supposed 
to be gained, but added powers over nature, arising 
from the intense forces of control put forth and 
educed by these exercises. The fact that the Siddhi 
or miraculous powers can be gained in this way is so 
universally accepted and taken for granted in India 
that (even after making all allowances) it is difficult 
not to be carried away on the stream of belief 
And indeed when one considers the known powers 
of the will — cultivated as it is to but a feeble degree 
amongst most of us — there seems to be an inherent 
probability in the case. The adepts however as 
a rule, though entirely agreeing that the attainment 
of the Siddhi powers is possible, strongly condemn 
the quest of them by these methods — saying with 
great justice that the mere fact of a quest of this 
kind is a breach of the law of Indifference and 



1 66 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

Trust, and that the quest being Instigated by some 
desire — ambition, spiritual pride, love of gain, or 
what not — necessarily ends either by stultifying 
Itself, or by feeding the desire, and. If some powers 
are gained, by the devotion of them to evil ends. 

Thus the methods that are mainly physical pro- 
duce certain results — clairvoyances and controls — 
which are largely physical In their character, and are 
probably for the most part more or less morbid and 
dangerous. They are however very widely spread 
among the inferior classes of yogis all over India, 
and the performances which spring from them, by 
exciting the fear and wonder of the populace, often 
become — as In the case of mesmeric performances 
In the West — a source of considerable gain to the 
chief actor. 

There remain two other classes of methods — the 
mental and the moral. 

^ Of the mental no doubt the most Important Is the 
Suppression of Thought-^and It Is not unlikely that 
this may have, when once understood, a far-reaching 
and Important Influence on our Western life — over- 
ridden and dominated as It Is by a fever of 
Thought v/hich It can by no means control. No- 
thing Indeed strikes one more as marking the 
immense contrast between the East and the West 
than, after leaving Western lands where the Ideal of 
life is to have an almost insanely active brain and 
to be perpetually on the war-path with fearful and 
wonderful projects and plans and purposes, to come 
to India and to find its leading men — men of culture 
and learning and accomplishment — deliberately 
passing beyond all these and addressing themselves 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. 1 67 

to the task of effacing their own thoughts, effacing 
all their own projects and purposes, in order that 
the diviner consciousness may enter in and occupy 
the room so prepared. 

The effacement of projects and purposes — which 
comes to much the same thing as the control of 
desire — belongs more properly to the moral side of 
the question, and may be considered later on. The 
subjection of Thought— which obviously is very 
closely connected with the subjection of Desire^ 
may however be considered here. 

(The Gnana-yogis (so called, to distinguish them 
from the Karma-yogis who rely more upon the ex- 
ternal and physical methods) adopt two practices, 
(i) that of intense concentration of the thoughts on 
a fixed object, (2) that of the effacement of thought 
altogether.^ 

(i) The thoughts may be fixed on a definite 
object, for instance, on one's own breathing — the 
inflow and outflow of the atmosphere through the 
channels of the physical body. The body must be 
kept perfectly still and motionless for a long period 
— so that it may pass entirely out of consciousness — 
and the thoughts fixed on the regulated calm tide of 
respiration, to the complete exclusion of every other 
subject. Or the name of an object— a flower for 
instance — may be repeated Incessantly — the image of 
the object being called up at the same time — till at 
last the name and the image of the object blend and 
become indistinguishable in the mind. 

Such practices have their literal and their spirit- 
ual sides. If carried out merely as formula, they 
evidently partake of a mesmeric (self-mesmeric) 



1 68 FROM adam's peak to elephanta. 

character, and ultimately Induce mesmeric states of 
consciousness.^ If carried out with a strong sense of 
their inner meaning — the presence of the vast cosmic 
life in the breathing, the endeavor to realise Brahma 
himself In the flower or other object contemplated — 
they naturally induce a deeper sense of the universal 
life and consciousness than that which belongs to 
the mesmeric state. Anyhow they teach a certain 
power and control over the thoughts ; and it is a 
doctrine much insisted on by the Gurus that in life 
generally the habit of the undivided concentration 
of the mind on that which one is doing is of the 
utmost importance. The wandering of the mind, 
its division and distraction, its openness to attack by 
brigand cares and anxieties, its incapacity to heartily 
enjoy itself In its work, not only lame and cripple 
and torment it in every way, but are a mark of the 
want of that faith which believes in the Now as 
the divine moment, and takes no thought for the 
Morrow. To concentrate at all times wholly and 
unreservedly in what you are doing at the moment 
is, they say, a distinct step in Gfianam. 

(2)(^he next step, the effacement of Thought, is 
a much more difficult one. Only when the power of 
concentration has been gained can this be attempted 
with any prospect of success. The body must be 
kept, as before, perfectly motionless, and in a quiet 

1 The Rev. H. Callaway, in a paper on " Divination among the 
Natives of Natal" {Journal of the Anthropological Institute^ vol. i. 
p. 176), says that the natives, "in order to become clairvoyant, 
attempt to effect intense concentration and abstraction of the 
mind — an abstraction even from their own thoughts." And this is 
done by herdsmen and chiefs alike — though of course with varying 
success. 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. 1 69 

place free from disturbance ; not In an attitude of 
ease or slumber, but sitting or standing erect with 
muscles tense. All will-power is required, and the 
greatest vigilance. Every thought must be de- 
stroyed on the instant of Its appearance. But the 
enemy is subtle, and failure — over a long period — 
inevitable. Then when success seems to be coming 
and Thouorht is dwindlinof, Oblivion, the twin-foe, 
appears and must also be conquered. For if Thought 
merely give place to Sleep, what is there gained ? 
After months, but more probably years, of intermit- 
tent practice the power of control grows ; curious but 
distinct physiological changes take place ; one day 
the student finds that Thought has gone ; he stands 
for a moment in Oblivion ; then that veil lifts, and 
there streams through his being a vast and illumined 
consciousness, glorious, that fills and overflows him, 
"surrounding him so that he is like a pot in water, 
which has the liquid within it and without." In this 
consciousness there is divine knowledge but no 
thought. It Is Samddhi, the universal '' I Am." ) 

Whatever people may think of the reality of this 
" Samadhi," of the genuineness or the universality 
of the consciousness obtained in it, etc. (and these 
are questions which of course require examination), 
it is incontestable that for centuries and centuries it 
has been an object of the most strenuous endeavor 
to vast numbers even of the very acutest and most 
capable intellects of India. Earthly joys paled 
before this ecstasy ; the sacred literatures are full of 
its praise. That there lurks here some definite and 
important fact of experience is I think obvious— 
though it is quite probable that it is not yet really 



I 70 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANT A. 

understood, either by the East that discovered it 
or the West that has criticised it. 

Leaving however for the present the considera- 
tion of this ukimate and transcendent resuh of the 
effacement of Thought, and freely admitting that the 
Eastern devotees have in the ardor of their pursuit 
of it been often led into mere absurdities and 
excesses — that they have in some cases practically 
mutilated their thinking powers— that they have re- 
frained from speech for such prolonged years that at 
last not only the tongue but the brain itself refused 
to act— -that they have in instances reduced them- 
selves to the condition of idiots and babbling children, 
and rendered themselves incapable of carrying on 
any kind of work ordinarily called useful — admitting 
all this, it still remains true I think that even in its 
lower aspects this doctrine is of vast import to-day 
in the West. 

For we moderns, while we have dominated 
Nature and external results in the most extraordinary 
way through our mechanical and other sciences, 
have just neglected this other field of mastery over 
our own internal mechanism. We pride ourselves 
on our athletic feats, but some of the performances 
of the Indian fakirs in the way of mastery over the 
internal processes of the body — processes which in 
ordinary cases have long ago lapsed into the region 
of the involuntary and unconscious — such as holding 
the breath over enormous periods, or reversing the 
peristaltic action of the alimentary canal throughout 
its entire length — are so astonishing that for the 
most part the report of them only excites incredulity 
among us, and we can hardly believe — what I take it 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. I71 

is a fact — that these physiological powers have been 
practised till they are almost reduced to a science. 

And if we are unwilling to believe in this internal 
mastery over the body, we are perhaps almost 
equally unaccustomed to the idea of mastery over 
our own inner thoughts and feelings. That a man 
should be a prey to any thought that chances to 
take possession of his mind is commonly among us 
assumed as unavoidable. It may be a matter of 
regret that he should be kept awake all night from 
anxiety as to the issue of a lawsuit on the morrow, 
but that he should have the power of determining 
whether he be kept awake or not seems an extra- 
vagant demand. The image of an impending 
calamity is no doubt odious, but its very odiousness 
(we say) makes it haunt the mind all the more perti- 
naciously — and it is useless to try to expel it. 

Yet this is an absurd position— for man, the heir 
of all the ages, to be in : hag-ridden by the flimsy 
creatures of his own brain. If a pebble in our boot 
torments us we expel it. We take off the boot and 
shake it out. And once the matter is fairly under- 
stood it is just as easy to expel an intruding and 
obnoxious thought from the mind. About this 
there ought to be no mistake, no two opinions. The 
thing is obvious, clear, and unmistakable. It 
should be as easy to expel an obnoxious thought 
from your mind as to shake a stone out of your 
shoe ; and till a man can do that, it is just nonsense 
to talk about his ascendancy over Nature, and all 
the rest of it. He is a mere slave, and a prey to 
the bat-winged phantoms that flit through the 
corridors of his own brain. 



172 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

Yet the weary and careworn faces that we meet 
by thousands, even among the affluent classes of 
civiHsation, testify only too clearly how seldom this 
mastery is obtained. How rare indeed to meet a 
man ! How common rather to discover a creature 
hounded on by tyrant thoughts (or cares or de- 
sires), cowering wincing under the lash — or per- 
chance priding himself to run merrily in obedience 
to a driver that rattles the reins and persuades him 
that he is free — whom we cannot converse with in 
careless tete-a-tete because that alien presence is 
always there, on the watch. 

It is one of the most prominent doctrines of the 
Gnanis that the power of expelling thoughts, or if 
need be of killing them dead on the spot, must be 
attained. Naturally the art requires practice ; but 
like other arts, when once acquired there is no more 
mystery or difficulty about it. And it is worth 
practice. It may Indeed fairly be said that life 
only begins when this art has been acquired. For 
obviously when Instead of being ruled by individual 
thoughts, the whole flock of them in their immense 
multitude and variety and capacity is ours to direct 
and despatch and employ where we list ("for He 
maketh the winds his messengers and the flaming 
fire his minister "), life becomes a thing so vast and 
grand compared with what it was before that its 
former condition may well appear almost antenatal. 

If you can kill a thought dead, for the time being, 
you can do anything else with it that you please. 
And therefore it is that this power is so valuable. 
And it not only frees a man from mental torment 
(which is nine-tenths at least of the torment of life), 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. 1 73 

but it gives him a concentred power of handling 
mental work absolutely unknown to him before. 
The two things are correlative to each other. As 
already said this is one of the principles of Gfianam. 
While at work your thought is to be absolutely con- 
centrated in it, undistracted by anything whatever 
irrelevant to the matter in hand — pounding away 
like a great engine, with giant power and perfect 
economy — no wear and tear of friction, or dislocation 
of parts owing to the working of different forces at 
the same time. Then when the work is finished, if 
there is no more occasion for the use of the machine, 
it must stop equally absolutely — stop entirely — no 
worrying (as if a parcel of boys were allowed to 
play their devilments with a locomotive as soon as 
it was in the shed) — and the man must retire into 
that region of his consciousness where his true self 
dwells. 

I say the power of the thought-machine itself is 
enormously increased by this faculty of letting it 
alone on the one hand and of using it singly and 
with concentration on the other. It becomes a true 
tool, which a master-workman lays down when done 
with, but which only a bungler carries about with 
him all the time to show that he is the possessor 
of it. 

Then on and beyond the work turned out by the 
tool itself is the knowledge that comes to us apart 
from its use : when the noise of the workshop is 
over, and mallet and plane laid aside — the faint 
sounds coming through the open window from the 
valley and the far seashore : the dim fringe of 
diviner knowledge, which begins to grow, poor 



174 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

thing, as soon as the eternal click-clack of thought 
is over — the extraordinary intuitions, perceptions, 
which, though partaking in some degree of the 
character of thought, spring from entirely different 
conditions, and are the forerunners of a changed 
consciousness. 

At first they appear miraculous, but it is not so. 
They are not miraculous, for they are always there. 
(The stars are always there.) It is we who are 
miraculous in our inattention to them. In the 
systemic or secondary or cosmic consciousness of 
man (I daresay all these ought to be distinguished, 
but I lump them together for the present) lurk the 
most minute and varied and far-reaching intuitions 
and perceptions — some of them in their swiftness and 
subtlety outreaching even those of the primary con- 
sciousness — but to them we do not attend because 
Thought like a pied piper Is ever capering and 
fiddling in front of us. And when Thought is gone, 
lo ! we are asleep. To open your eyes in that 
region which is neither Night nor Day is to behold 
strange and wonderful things. 

As already said the subjection of Thought is closely 
related to the subjection of Desire, and has conse- 
quently its specially moral as well as its specially 
intellectual relation to the question in hand. Nine- 
tenths of the scattered or sporadic thought with 
which the mind usually occupies itself when not 
concentrated on any definite work is what may be 
called self-thought — thought of a kind which dwells 
on and exaggerates the sense of self. This is hardly 
realised in its full degree till the effort is made to 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. I 75 

suppress it ; and one of the most excellent results of 
such an effort is that with the stilling of all the 
phantoms which hover round the lower self, one's 
relations to others, to one's friends, to the world at 
large, and one's perception of all that is concerned 
in these relations come out into a purity and dis- 
tinctness unknown before. Obviously while the 
mind is fall of the little desires and fears which 
concern the local self, and is clouded over by the 
thought-images which such desires and fears evoke, 
it is impossible that it should see and understand 
the greater facts beyond and its own relation to 
them. But with the subsiding of the former the 
great Vision begins to dawn ; and a man never feels 
less alone than when he has ceased to think whether 
he is alone or not. 

It is in this respect that the subjection of desire 
is really important. There is no necessity to sup- 
pose that desire, in itself, is an evil; indeed it is 
quite conceivable that it may fall into place as a 
useful and important element of human nature — 
though certainly one whose importance will be found 
to dwindle and gradually disappear as time goes on. 
The trouble for us is, in our present state, that 
desire is liable to grow to such dimensions as to 
overcloud the world for us, emprison, and shut us 
out from inestimable Freedom beneath its sway. 
Under such circumstances it evidently is a nuisance 
and has to be dominated. No doubt certain sections 
of the Indian and other ascetic philosophies have 
taught the absolute extinction of desire, but we 
may fairly regard these as cases — so common in 
the history of all traditional teaching — of undue 



176 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

prominence given to a special detail, and of the exal- 
tation of the letter of the doctrine above the spirit. 

The moral element (at which we have now arrived) 
In the attainment of a hlo^her order of consciousness 
Is of course recognised by all the great Indian 
teachers as of the first importance. The sacred 
books, the sermons of Buddha, the discourses of 
the present-day Gurus, all point In the same direc- 
tion. Gentleness, forbearance towards all, abstention 
from giving pain, especially to the animals, the 
recognition of the divine spirit In every creature 
down to the lowest, the most absolute sense of 
equality and the most absolute candor, an undis- 
turbed serene mind, free from anger, fear, or any 
excessive and tormenting desire — these are all 
Insisted on. 

Thus, though physical and mental conditions are 
held — and rightly — to be Important, the moral con- 
ditions are held to be at least equally important. 
Nevertheless, In order to guard against misconcep- 
tion which In so complex a subject may easily arise, 
it is necessary to state here — what I have hinted 
before — that different sections and schools among 
the devotees place a very different respective value 
upon the three sets of conditions — some making 
more of the physical, others of the mental, and 
others again of the moral — and that as may be easily 
guessed the results attained by the various schools 
differ considerably in consequence. 

The higher esoteric teachers naturally lay the 
greatest stress on the moral, but any account of 
their methods would be defective which passed over 
or blinked the fact that they go beyond the moral — 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. I 77 

because this fact is in some sense of the essence of 
the Oriental inner teaching. Morahty, it is well 
understood, involves the conception of one's self as 
distinct from others, as distinct from the world, and 
presupposes a certain antagonism between one's own 
interests and those of one's fellows. One " sacri- 
fices " one's own interests to those of another, or 
'' goes out of one's way " to help him. All such 
ideas must be entirely left behind, if one is to reach 
the central illumination. They spring from igno- 
rance and are the products of darkness. On no 
word did the '' Grammarian " insist more strongly 
than on the word Non-differentiation. You are not 
even to differentiate yourself in thought from others ; 
you are not to begin to regard yourself as separate 
from them. Even to talk about helping others is a 
mistake ; it is vitiated by the delusion that you and 
they are twain. So closely does the subtle Hindu 
mind go to the mark ! What would our bald com- 
mercial philanthropy, our sleek aesthetic altruism, 
our scientific isophily, say to such teaching ? All the 
little self-satisfactions which arise from the sense of 
duty performed, all the cheese-parings of equity be- 
tween oneself and others, all the tiny wonderments 
whether you are better or worse than your neighbor, 
have to be abandoned ; and you have to learn to 
live in a world in which the chief fact is 7w^ that you 
are distinct from others, but that you are a part of 
and integral with them. This involves indeed a 
return to the communal order of society, and difficult 
as this teaching is for us in this day to realise, yet 
there is no doubt that it must lie at the heart of 
the Democracy of the future, as it has lain, ger- 

N 



178 FROM ADAM's peak TO ELEPHANTA. 

minal, all these centuries In the hidden womb of the 
East. 

Nor from Nature. You are not to differentiate 
yourself from Nature. We have seen that the 
Guru Tlllelnathan spoke of the operations of the 
external world as " I," having dismissed the sense of 
difference between himself and them. It Is only 
under these, and such conditions as these, that the 
little mortal creature gradually becomes aware of 
What he Is. 

This non-differentlatlon Is the final deliverance. 
When it enters in the whole burden of absurd cares, 
anxieties, duties, motives, desires, fears, plans, pur- 
poses, preferences, etc., rolls off and lies like mere 
lumber on the ground. The winged spirit Is free, 
and takes Its flight. It passes through the veil of 
mortality and leaves that behind. Though I say 
this non-differentiation is the final deliverance (from 
the bonds of Illusion) I do not say It Is the final 
experience. Rather I should be Inclined to think It 
is only the beginning of many experiences. As, in 
the history of man and the higher animals, the con- 
sciousness of self — the local self — has been the basis 
of an enormous mass of perceptions. Intuitions, joys, 
sufferings, etc., incalculable and Indescribable In 
multitudinousness and variety, so in the history of 
man and the angels will the consciousness of the 
cosmic and universal life — the true self underlying — 
become the basis of another and far vaster know- 
ledge. 

There Is one respect In which the specially Eastern 
teaching commonly appears to us Westerners — and 
on the whole I am Inclined to think justly — defec- 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. I 79 

tive ; and that is in its little insistence on the idea of 
Love. While, as already said, a certain gentleness 
and forbearance and passive charity is a decided 
feature of Indian teaching and life, one cannot help 
noting the absence — or less prominence at any rate 
— of that positive spirit of love and human helpful- 
ness which in some sections of Western society 
might almost be called a devouring passion. Though 
with plentiful exceptions no doubt, yet there is a 
certain quiescence and self-inclusion and absorbed- 
ness in the Hindu ideal, which amounts almost to 
coldness ; and this is the more curious because 
Hindu society — till within the last few years at any 
rate — has been based upon the most absolutely 
communal foundation. But perhaps this fact of the 
communal structure of society in India is just the 
reason why the social sentiment does not seek 
impetuously for expression there ; while in Europe, 
where existing institutions are a perpetual denial of 
it, its expression becomes all the more determined 
and necessary. However that may be, I think the 
fact may be admitted of a difference between the 
East and the West in this respect. Of course I am 
not speaking of those few who may attain to the 
consciousness of non-differentiation — because in their 
case the word love must necessarily change its 
meaning ; nor am I speaking of the specially indi- 
vidual and sexual and amatory love, in which there 
is no reason to suppose the Hindus deficient; but I 
am rather alluding to the fact that in the West we 
are in the habit of looking on devotion to other 
humans (widening out into the social passion) as the 
most natural way of losing one's self-limitations and 



i8o FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

passing into a larger sphere of life and conscious- 
ness ; while in the East this method is little thought 
of or largely neglected, in favor of the concentra- 
tion of one's self in the divine, and mergence in the 
universal in that way. 

I think this contrast — taking it quite roughly — 
may certainly be said to exist. The Indian teachers, 
the sacred books, the existing instruction, centre 
consciously or unconsciously round the development 
of Will-power. By will to surrender the will ; by 
determination and concentration to press inward 
and upward to that portion of one's being which 
belongs to the universal, to conquer the body, to 
conquer the thoughts, to conquer the passions and 
emotions ; always will, and will-power. And here 
again we have a paradox, because in their quiescent, 
gentle, and rather passive external life — so different 
from the push and dominating energy of the Western 
nations — there is little to make one expect such 
force. But while modern Europe and America has 
spent its Will in the mastery of the external world, 
India has reserved hers for the conquest of inner 
and spiritual kingdoms. In their hypnotic pheno- 
mena too, the yogis exhibit the force of will, and 
this differentiates their hypnotism from that of the 
West — in which the patient is operated upon by 
another person. In the latter there is a danger of 
loss of will-power, but in the former (auto-hypnotism) 
will-power is no doubt gained, while at the same 
time hypnotic states are induced. Suggestion, which 
is such a powerful agent in hypnotism, acts here too, 
and helps to knit the body together, pervading it 
with a healing influence, and bringing the lower self 



METHODS OF ATTAINMENT. 151 

under the direct domination of the higher ; and in 
this respect the Guru to some extent stands in the 
place of the operator, while the yogi is his subject. 

Thus in the East the Will constitutes the great 
path ; but in the West the path has been more 
specially through Love — and probably will be. The 
great teachers of the West — Plato, Jesus, Paul — 
have indicated this method rather than that of the 
ascetic will ; though of course there have not been 
wanting exponents of both sides. The one method 
means the gradual dwindling of the local and exter- 
nal self through inner concentration and aspiration, 
the other means the enlargement of the said self 
through afifectional growth and nourishment, till at 
last It can contain itself no longer. The bursting of 
the sac takes place ; the life is poured out, and ceas- 
ing to be local becomes universal. Of this method 
Whitman forms a signal instance. He is egotistic 
enough In all conscience ; yet at last through his 
Immense human sympathy, and through the very 
enlargement of his ego thus taking place, the bar- 
riers break down and he passes out and away. 

" O Christ ! This is mastering me ! 
In at the conquered doors they crowd. I am possessed. 

■Sf- # * * 

I embody all presences outlawed or suffering ; 
See myself in prison shaped like another man, 
And feel the dull unintermitted pain. 

* # -Sfr * 

Enough ! enough ! enough ! 

Somehow I have been stunned. Stand back ! 

Give me a little time beyond my cuffed head, slumbers, dreams, 

gaping ; 
I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake. 
That I could forget the mockers and insults ! 



152 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

That I could forget the trickling tears, and the blows of 

bludgeons and hammers ! 
That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion 

and bloody crowning." 

But such expressions as these — in which the 
passion of humanity wraps the speaker into another 
sphere of existence — are not characteristic of the 
East, and are not found in the Indian scriptures. 
When its time comes the West will probably adopt 
this method of the liberation of the human soul — 
through love — rather than the specially Indian 
method — of the Will ; .though doubtless both have 
to be, and will be in the future, to a large extent 
concurrently used. Different races and peoples 
incline according to their idiosyncrasies to different 
ways ; each individual even — as is quite recognised 
by the present-day Gurus — has his special line of 
approach to the supreme facts. It is possible that 
when the Western races once realise what lies be- 
neath this great instinct of humanity, which seems 
in some ways to be their special inspiration, they 
will outstrip even the Hindus in their entrance to 
and occupation of the new fields of consciousness. 



CHAPTER XI. 

TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM- RELICxlON. 

I HAVE dwelt SO far on the nature of certain ex- 
periences (which I have not however attempted to 
describe) and on the methods by which, specially in 
India, they are sought to be obtained ; and I have 
done so in general terms, and with an endeavor to 
assimilate the subject to Western ideas, and to bring 
it into line with modern science and speculation. I 
propose in this chapter to dwell more especially on 
the formal side of our friend's teaching — which will 
bring out into relief the special character of Eastern 
thought and its differences from our present-day 
modes of thought. 

I must however again warn the reader against- 
accepting anything I say, except with the greatest 
reserve, and especially not to broaden out into 
sweeping generalities any detailed statement I may 
happen to make. People often ask for some con- 
cise account of Indian teaching and religion. Sup- 
posing some one were to ask for a concise account 
of the Christian teaching and religion — which of us, 
with all our familiarity with the subject, could give 
an account which the others would accept t From 
the question whether Jesus and Paul were Initiates 
in the Eastern mysteries — as the modern Gurus 

claim that they were, and as I think there can be no 

183 



184 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

doubt that they were, either by tradition or by 
spontaneous evolution ; through the question of the 
similarity and differences of their teaching ; the 
various schools of early Christianity ; the Egyptian 
influences ; the Gnostic sects and philosophy ; the 
formation and history of the Church, its organisa- 
tions, creeds and doctrines ; mediaeval Christianity 
and its relation to Aristotle ; the mystic teachers 
of the 13th and 14th centuries; the ascetic and 
monastic movements ; the belief in alchemy and 
witchcraft ; the miracles of the Saints ; the Pro- 
testant movement and doctrines, etc., etc. ; down 
to the innumerable petty sects of to-day and all 
their conflicting views on the atonement and the 
sacraments and the inspiration of the Bible, and all 
the rest of it — who would be so bold as to an- 
nounce the gist and resume of it all in a few brief 
sentences ? Yet the great Indian evolution of 
religious thought — while historically more ancient — 
is at least equally vast and complex and bewildering 
in its innumerable ramifications. I should feel 
entirely incompetent to deal with it as a whole — 
and here at any rate am only touching upon the 
personality and utterances of one teacher, belonging 
to a particular school, the South Indian. 

This Guru was, as I have said, naturally one of 
those who insisted largely — though not by any 
means exclusively — on the moral and ultra- moral 
sides of the teaching ; and from this point of view 
his personality was particularly remarkable. His 
gentleness and kindliness, combined with evident 
power; and inflexibility and intensity underlying; 
his tense eyes, as of the seer, and gracious lips and 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM-RELIGION. 1 85 

expression, and ease and dignity of figure ; his 
entire serenity and calm — though with lots of 
vigor when needed ; all these were impressive. 
But perhaps I was most struck — as the culmination 
of character and manhood — by his perfect simplicity 
of manner. Nothing could be more unembarrassed, 
unselfconscious, direct to the point in hand, free 
from kinks of any kind. Sometimes he would sit 
on his sofa couch in the little cottaee, not unfre- 
quently, as I have said, with bare feet gathered 
beneath him ; sometimes he would sit on a chair 
at the table ; sometimes in the animation of dis- 
course his muslin wrap would fall from his shoulder, 
unnoticed, showing a still graceful figure, thin, but 
by no means emaciated ; sometimes he would stand 
for a moment, a tall and dignified form ; yet always 
with the same ease and grace and absence of self- 
consciousness that only the animals and a few 
among human beings show. It was this that made 
him seem very near to one, as if the ordinary 
barriers which divide people were done away with ; 
and if this was non-differentiation working within, 
its external effect was very admirable. 

I dwell perhaps the more on these points of charac- 
ter, which made me feel an extraordinary rapproche- 
ment and unspoken intimacy to this man, because 
I almost immediately found on acquaintance that on 
the plane of ordinary thought and scientific belief 
we were ever so far asunder, with only a small 
prospect, owing to difficulties of language, etc., of 
ever coming to an understanding. I found — though 
this of course gave a special interest to his conver- 
sation — that his views of astronomy, physiology, 



1 86 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

chemistry, politics and the rest, were entirely un- 
modified by Western thought and science — and that 
they had come down through a long line of oral 
tradition, continually reinforced by references to the 
sacred books, from a most remote antiquity. Here 
was a man who living In a native principality 
under an Indian rajah, and skilled in the learning 
of his own country, had probably come across very 
few English at all till he was of mature years, had 
not learned the English language, and had appar- 
ently troubled himself but little about Western ideas 
of any kind. I am not a stickler for modern science 
myself, and think many of its conclusions very 
shaky ; but I confess it gave me a queer feeling 
when I found a man of so subtle intelligence and 
varied capacity calmly asserting that the earth was 
the centre of the physical universe and that the sun 
revolved about It ! With all seriousness he turned 
out the theory (which old Lactantius Indicopletistes 
introduced from the East into Europe about the 
3rd century a.d.) — namely that the earth is flat, 
with a great hill, the celebrated Mount Meru, in the 
north, behind which the sun and moon and other 
heavenly bodies retire in their order to rest. He 
explained that an eclipse of the moon (then going 
on) was caused by one of the two "dark planets," 
Raku or Ketu (which are familiar to astrology), 
concealing it from view. He said (and this Is also 
an ancient doctrine) that there w^ere 1,008 solar or 
planetary systems similar to ours, some above the 
earth, some below, and some on either hand. As 
to the earth itself it had been destroyed and re- 
created many times in successive aeons, but there 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM-RELIGION. 1 87 

had never been a time when the divine knowledge 
had not existed on it. There had always been an 
India {gndna bhttmi, or Wisdom- land, In contra- 
distinction to the Western bhoga bhumi, or land of 
pleasure), and always Vedas or Upanishads (or 
books corresponding) brought by divine teachers. 
(About modern theories of submerged continents 
and lower races In the far past he did not appear 
to know anything or to have troubled his head, nor 
did he put forth any views on this subject of the 
kind mentioned by SInnett in his Esoteric Bicd- 
dhism. Many of his views however were very 
similar to those given In that book.) 

His general philosophy appeared to be that of the 
Siddhantic system, into which I do not propose to 
go In any detail — as it may be found In the books ; 
and all such systems are hopelessly dull, and may 
be said to carry their own death-warrants written 
on their faces. The Indian systems of philosophy 
bear a strong resemblance to the Gnostic systems 
of early Christian times — which latter were no 
doubt derived from the East. They all depend 
upon the idea of emanation — which is undoubtedly 
an important idea, and corresponds to some remark- 
able facts of consciousness ; but the special forms 
in which the idea is cast in the yarious systems are 
not very valuable. 

The universe in the Siddhantic system is com- 
posed of five elements — (i) ether, (2) air, (3) fire, 
(4) water, and (5) earth ; and to get over the 
obvious difficulties which arise from such a classifi- 
cation, it is explained that these are not the gross 
ether, air, fire, water and earth that we know, but 



1 88 FROM Adam's pp:ak to elephanta. 

subtle elements of the same name — which are them- 
selves perfectly pure but by their admixture produce 
the gross elements. Thus the air we know is not 
a true element, but is formed by a mixture of the 
subtle air with small portions of the subtle ether, 
subtle fire, subtle water, and subtle earth ; and so on. 
This explains how it is there may be various kinds of 
air or of water or of earth. Then the ^y^ subtle 
elements give rise to the five forms of sensation in 
the order named — (i) Sound, (2) Touch, (3) Form, 
(4) Taste, (5) Smell ; and to the ^\r^ corresponding 
organs of sense. Also there are five intellectual 
faculties evolved by admixture from the subtle 
elements, namely, (i) The inner consciousness, which 
has the quality of ether or space, (2) Thought 
(manas) which has the quality of aerial agitation 
and motion, (3) Reason (buddhi) which has the 
quality of light and fire, (4) Desire {chittam) which 
has the emotional rushing character of water, (5) 
The I -making faculty (akankdrd), which has the 
hardness and resistance of the earth. Also the five 
organs of action, the voice, the hands, the feet, the 
anus, and the penis in the same order ; and the f\vQ 
vital airs which are supposed to pervade the dif> 
ferent parts of the body and to impel their action. 

This is all very neat and compact. Unfortu- 
nately it shares the artificial character which all 
systems of philosophy have, and which makes It 
quite impossible to accept any of them. I think 
our friend quite recognised this ; for more than once 
he said, and quoted the sacred books to the same 
effect, that '' Everything which can be thought Is 
untrue." In this respect the Indian philosophy 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM- RELIGION. 1 89 

altogether excels our Western systems (except the 
most modern). It takes the bottom out of its own 
little bucket in the most impartial way. 

Nevertheless, whatever faults they may have, and 
however easy it may be to attack their thought- 
forms, the great Indian systems (and those of the 
West the same) are no doubt based upon deep-lying 
facts of consciousness, which it must be our busi- 
ness some time to disentangle. I believe there are 
facts of consciousness underlying such unlikely 
things as the evolution of the five subtle elements, 
even though the form of the doctrine may be 
largely fantastic. The primal element, according 
to this doctrine, is the ether or space (Akdsa), the 
two ideas of space and ether being curiously identi- 
fied, and the other elements, air, fire, etc., are 
evolved in succession from this one by a process 
of thickening or condensation. Now this conscious- 
ness of space — not the material space, but the space 
within the soul — is a form of the supreme con- 
sciousness in man, the sat-chit-dnanda Brahm — 
Freedom , Equality, Extension, Omnipresence — and 
is accompanied by a sense which has been often 
described as a combination of all the senses, sight, 
hearing, touch, etc., in one ; so that they do not 
even appear differentiated from each other. In the 
course of the descent of the consciousness from this 
plane to the plane of ordinary life (which may be 
taken to correspond to the creation of the actual 
world) the transcendent space-consciousness goes 
through a sort of obscuration or condensation, and 
the senses become differentiated into separate and 
distinct faculties. This — or somethinof like it — is a 



igO FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

distinct experience. It may well be that the formal 
doctrine about the five elements is merely an 
attempt — necessarily very defective, since these 
things cannot be adequately expressed in that way 
— to put the thing into a form of thought. And 
so with other doctrines — some may contain a real 
inhalt, others may be merely ornamental thought- 
fringes, put on for the sake of logical symmetry or 
what not. In its external sense the doctrine of the 
evolution of the other elements successively by 
condensation from the ether is after all not so far 
removed from our modern scientific ideas. For the 
chief difference between the air, and other such gases, 
and the ether is supposed by us to be the closeness 
of the particles in the former ; then in the case of 
fire, the particles come into violent contact, produc- 
ing light and heat ; in fluids their contact has 
become continuous though mobile ; and in the earth 
and other solids their contact Is fixed. 

However, whatever justification the formal an- 
alysis of man and the external world into their 
constituent parts may have or require, the ultimate 
object of the analysis In the Indian philosophy is to 
convince the pupil that He is a being apart from 
them all. *' He whose perception is obscured 
mistakes the twenty-six tatwas (categories or 
' thats ') for himself, and is under the illusions of 
* I ' and ' mine.' To be liberated by the grace of a 
proper spiritual teacher from the operation of this ob- 
scuring power and to realise that these are not self, 
constitute 'deliverance.' " Here is the ultimate fact 
of consciousness — which is the same, and equally 
true, whatever the analysis of the tatwas may be. 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM-RELIGION. I9I 

'' The true quality of the Soul is that of space, 
by which it is at rest, everywhere. Then," con- 
tinued the Guru, " comes the Air quality — by which 
it moves with speed from place to place ; then the 
Fire-quality, by which it discriminates ; then the 
Water-quality, which gives it emotional flow ; and 
then the Earth or self-quality, rigid and unyielding. 
As these things evolve out of the soul, so they must 
involve again, into it and into Brahma 

To go with the five elements, etc., the system 
expounded by the Guru supposes five shells en- 
closing the soul. These, with the soul itself, and 
Brahm, the undifferentiated spirit lying within the 
soul, form seven planes or sections — as in the Eso- 
teric Buddhism of Sinnett and the Theosophists. 
The divisions however are not quite identical in the 
two systems, which appear to be respectively North 
Indian and South Indian. In the North Indian we 
have (i) the material body, (2) the vitality, (3) the 
astral form, (4) the animal soul, (5) the human soul, 
(6) the soul proper, and (7) the undifferentiated 
spirit ; in the South Indian we have (i) the material 
shell, (2) the shell of the vital airs, (3) the sen- 
sorial shell, (4) the cognitlonal shell, (5) the shell of 
oblivion and bliss in sleep, (6) the soul, and (7) the 
undifferentiated spirit. The two extremes seem the 
same in the two systems, but the intermediate layers 
differ. In some respects the latter system is the 
more effective ; it has a stronger practical bearing 
than the other, and appears to be specially designed 
as a guide to action in the work of emancipation. 
In some respects the other system has a wider 
application. Neither of course have any particular 



192 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

value except as convenient forms of thought for 
their special purposes, and as very roughly embody- 
ing in their different degrees various experiences 
which the human consciousness passes through in 
the course of its evolution. *' It is not till all the 
five shells have been successively peeled off that 
consciousness enters the soul and it sees itself and 
the universal beine as one. The first three are 
peeled off at each bodily death of the man, but they 
grow again out of what remains. It is not enough 
to pass beyond these, but beyond the other two also. 
Then when that is done the student enters into the 
fulness of the whole universe ; and with that joy no 
earthly joy can for a moment be compared." 

" Death," he continued, " is usually great agony, 
as if the life was being squeezed out of every part — 
like the juice out of a sugar-cane ; only for those who 
have already separated their souls from their bodies 
is it not so. For them it is merely a question of 
laying down the body at will, when its karma is 
worked out, or of retaining it, if need be, to pro- 
longed years." (It is commonly said that Vasishta 
who first gave the sacred knowledge to mankind, is 
still living and providing for the earth ; and Tillei- 
nathan Swamy is said to have seen Tiruvalluvar, 
the pariah priest who wrote the Kurral over i,ooo 
years ago.) "In ordinary cases the last thoughts 
that cling to the body (* the ruling passion strong in 
death ') become the seed of the next ensuing body." 

In this system the outermost layer of that portion 
of the human being which survives death is the 
shell of thought (and desire). As the body is modi- 
fied in every- day life by the action of the thought- 



^>^ 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM- RELIGION. 1 93 

forms within and grows out of them — so the new 
body at some period after death grows out of the 
thought-forms that survive. " The body is built up 
by your thought — and not by your thought in this 
Hfe only, but by the thought of previous lives." 

Of the difficult question about hereditary likeness, 
suggesting that the body is also due to the thought 
of the parents, he gave no very detailed account, — 
only that the atomic soul is carried at some period 
after death (by universal laws, or by its own affini- 
ties) into a womb suitable for its next incarnation, 
where finding kindred thought-forms and elements 
it assimilates and grows from them, with the result 
of what is called family likeness. 

Some of his expositions of Astrology were very 
interesting to me — particularly to find this world-old 
system, with all its queer formalities and deep under 
lying general truths still passively (though I think 
not actively) accepted and handed down by so able 
an exponent — but I cannot record them at any length. 
The five operations of the divine spirit, namely (i) 
Grace, (2) Obscuration, (3) Destruction, (4) Preser- 
vation and (5) Creation, correspond to the five ele- 
ments, space, air, fire, water and earth, and are 
embodied in the nine planets, thus : (i) Raku and 
Ketu, (2) Saturn, (3) the Sun and Mars, (4) Venus, 
Mercury and the Moon, (5) Jupiter. It is thus that 
the birth of a human being is influenced by the posi- 
tion of the planets, i.e. the horoscope. The male 
semen contains the five elements, and the composi- 
tion of it is determined by the attitude of the nine 
planets in the sky ! There seems here to be a 
glimmering embodiment of the deep-lying truth that 

o 



1 94 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

the whole universe conspires In the sexual act, and 
that the orgasm Itself Is a flash of the universal 
consciousness ; but the thought-forms of astrology 
are as Indigestible to a mind trained in Western 
science, as I suppose the thought-forms of the latter 
are to the philosopher of the East ! 

When I expostulated with the Guru about these, 
to us, crudities of Astrology, and about such theories 
as that of the flat earth, the cause of eclipses, etc., 
bringing the most obvious arguments to attack his 
position — he did not meet me with any arguments, 
being evidently unaccustomed to deal with the 
matter on that plane at all ; but simply replied that 
these things had been seen *' In pure consciousness," 
and that they were so. It appeared to me pretty 
clear however that he was not speaking authenti- 
cally, as having seen them so himself, but simply 
recording again the tradition delivered In Its time to 
him. And here Is a great source of difficulty ; for 
the force of tradition Is so tremendous In these 
matters, and blends so, through the Intimate relation 
of teacher and pupil, with the pupil's own experi- 
ence, that I can imagine it difficult In some cases for 
the pupil to disentangle what is authentically his 
own vision from that which he has merely heard. 
Besides — as may be easily Imagined — the whole 
system of teaching tends to paralyse activity on the 
thought-plane to such a degree that the spirit of 
healthy criticism has been lost, and things are 
handed down and accepted In an otiose way with- 
out ever being really questioned or properly en- 
visaged. And lastly there Is a cause which I think 
acts sometimes in the same direction, namely that 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM-RELIGION. 1 95 

the yogi learns — either from habit or from actual 
experience of a superior order of consciousness — so 
to despise matters belonging to the thought-world, 
that he really does not care whether a statement is 
true or false, In the mundane sense — i.e. consistent or 
Inconsistent with other statements belonging to the 
same plane. All these causes make It extremely- 
difficult to arrive at what we should call truth as 
regards matters of fact — appearances alleged to have 
been seen, feats performed, or the occurrence of past 
events ; and though there may be no prejudice 
against the possibility of them, it Is wise — In cases 
where definite and unmistakable evidence Is absent, 
to withhold the judgment either way, for or against 
their occurrence. 

With regard to these primitive old doctrines of 
Astronomy, Astrology, Philology, Physiology, etc., 
handed down from far-back times and still embodied 
in the teaching of the Gurus, though it Is Impossible 
to accept them on the ordinary thought-plane, I 
think we may yet fairly conclude that there is an 
element of cosmic consciousness In them, or at any 
rate In many of them, which has given them their 
vitality and seal of authority so to speak. I have 
already explained what I mean, in one or two cases. 
Just as in the old myths and legends (Andromeda, 
Cupid and Psyche, Cinderella and a great many 
more) an effort was made to embody Indirectly, In 
ordinary thought-forms, things seen with the inner 
eye and which could not be expressed directly — so 
was the same process carried out in the old science. 
Though partly occupied with things of the Thought- 
plane, It was also partly occupied In giving expres- 



196 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

sion to things which He behind that plane — which 
we in our Western sciences have neither discerned 
nor troubled ourselves about. Hence, though con- 
fused and defective and easily impugnable, it con- 
tains an element which is yet of value. Take the 
theory of the flat earth for instance, already men- 
tioned, with Mount Meru in the north, behind which 
the sun and moon retire each day. At first it seems 
almost incredible that a subtle-brained shrewd 
people should have entertained so crude a theory at 
all. But it soon appears that v^^hile being a rude 
explanation of external facts and one which might 
commend itself to a superficial observer, it is also 
and in reality a description of certain internal phe- 
nomena seen. There are a sun and moon within, 
and there is a Mount Meru (so it js said) within, by 
which they are obscured. The universe within the 
soul and the universe without correspond and are 
the similitudes of each other, and so (theoretically 
at any rate) the language which describes one should 
describe the other. 

It is well known that much of the mediaeval 
alchemy had this double signification— the terms 
used indicated two classes of facts. Sometimes the 
inner meaning preponderated, sometimes the outer ; 
and it is not always easy to tell in the writings of 
the Alchemists which is specially intended. This 
alchemical teaching came into Europe from the East 
— as we know ; yet it was not without a feeling of 
surprise that I heard the Guru one day expounding 
as one of the ancient traditions of his own country a 
doctrine that I seemed familiar with as coming from 
Paracelsus or some such author — that of the trans- 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM-RELIGION. 1 97 

mutation of copper into gold by means of solidified 
mercury. There is a method he explained, pre- 
served in mystic language in some of the ancient 
books, by which mercury can be rendered solid. 
This solid mercury has extraordinary properties : it 
is proof against the action of fire ; if you hold a 
small piece of it in your mouth, arrows and bullets 
cannot harm you ; and the mere touch of it will turn 
a lump of copper into gold. 

Now this doctrine has been recognised by students 
of the mediaeval alchemy to have an esoteric meaning. 
Quicksilver or mercury — as I think I have already 
mentioned — is an image or embodiment of Thought 
itself, the ever-glancing, ever-shifting ; to render 
quicksilver solid is to fix thought, and so to enter 
into the transcendent consciousness. He who does 
that can be harmed neither by arrows nor by bullets ; 
a touch of that diviner principle turns the man 
whose nature is but base copper into pure gold. 
The Guru however expounded this as if in a purely 
literal and external sense ; and on my questioning 
him it became evident that he believed in some at 
any rate of the alchemical transmutations in this 
sense — though what evidence he may have had for 
such belief did not appear. 

I remember very well the evening on which this 
conversation took place. We were walking along 
an unfrequented bit of road or by-lane ; the sky 
was transparent with the colors of sunset, the 
wooded hills a few miles off looked blue through 
the limpid air. He strode along — a tall dark figure 
with coal-black eyes — on raised wooden sandals or 
clogs — his white wrapper loosely encircling him — 



IQo FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPIIANTA. 

with SO easy and swift a motion that it was quite a 
consideration to keep up with him — discoursing all 
the while on the wonderful alchemical and medical 
secrets preserved from ages back in the slokas of the 
sacred books — how in order to safeguard this arcane 
knowledge, and to render it inaccessible to the 
vulgar, methods had been adopted of the transposi- 
tion of words, letters, etc., which made the text 
mere gibberish except to those who had the key ; 
how there still existed a great mass of such writings, 
inscribed on palm and other leaves, and stored away 
in the temples and monasteries — though much had 
been destroyed — and so forth ; altogether a strange 
figure — something uncanny and superhuman about it. 
I found it difficult to believe that i was in the end 
of the nineteenth century, and not three or four 
thousand years back among the sages of the Vedic 
race ; and indeed the more I saw of this Guru the 
more I felt persuaded (and still feel) that in general 
appearance, dress, mental attitude, and so forth, he 
probably resembled to an extraordinary degree those 
ancient teachers whose tradition he still handed 
down. The more one sees of India the more one 
learns to appreciate the enormous tenacity of custom 
and tradition there, and that the best means to realise 
its past may be to study its present life in the proper 
quarters. 

His criticisms of the English, of English rule in 
India, and of social institutions generally, were very 
interesting — to me at any rate — as coming from a 
man so perfectly free from Western '* taint " and 
modern modes of thought, and who yet had had 
considerable experience of state policy and adminis- 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM-RELIGION. 1 99 

tration in his time, and who generally had circled 
a considerable experience of life. He said — what 
was quite a new idea to me, but in the most 
emphatic way — that the rule of the English in 
the time of the East India Company had been 
much better than It had become since under the 
Crown. Curiously enough his charge was that '' the 
Queen " had made it so entirely commercial. The 
sole idea now, he said, is money. Before '57 there 
had been some kind of State policy, some idea of a 
large and generous rule, and of the good of the 
people, but in the present day the rule was essen- 
tially feeble, with no defined policy of any kind 
except that of the money bag. This criticism im- 
pressed me much, as corroborating from an entirely 
independent source the growth of mere commercial- 
ism in Britain during late years, and of the nation-of- 
shopkeepers theory of government. 

Going on to speak of government generally, his 
views would I fear hardly be accepted by the 
schools — they were more Carlylean in character. 
"States," he said, "must be ruled by Justice, and 
then they will succeed." (An ancient doctrine, this, 
but curiously neglected all down history.) "A king 
should stand and did stand in old times as the 
representative of Siva (God). He is nothing in 
himself — no more than the people — his revenue is 
derived from them — he is elected by them — and he is 
in trust to administer justice — especially criminal 
justice. In the courtyard of the palace at Tanjore 
there hung at one time a bell which the rajah placed 
there in order that any one feeling himself aggrieved 
might come and ring it, and so claim redress or 



200 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

judgment. Justice or Equality," he continued, " is 
the special attribute of God ; and he who represents 
God, i.e. the king, must consider this before all 
things. The same with rich people — they are bound 
to serve and work for the poor from whom their 
riches come." 

This last sentence he repeated so often, at different 
times and in different forms, that he might almost 
have been claimed as a Socialist — certainly was a 
Socialist in the heart of the matter ; and at any rate 
this teaching shows how near the most ancient 
traditions come to the newest doctrines in these 
respects, and how far the unclean commercialism 
out of which we are just passing stands from 
either. 

As to the English people he seemed to think them 
hopelessly plunged in materialism, but said that if 
they did turn to *' sensible pursuits " (i.e. of divine 
knowledge) their perseverance and natural sense of 
justice and truth would, he thought, stand them in 
good stead. The difficulties of the gnosis in England 
were however very great; "those who do attain 
some degree of emancipation there do not know that 
they have attained ; though having experience they 
lack knowledge." "You in the West," he continued, 
'' say O God, O God ! but you have no defi^tite know- 
ledge or methods by which you can attain to see 
God. It is like a man who knows there is ghee 
(butter) to be got out of a cow {paste, metaph. for 
soul). He walks round and round the cow and 
cries, O Ghee, O Ghee ! Milk pervades the cow, but 
he cannot find it. Then when he has learned to 
handle the teat, and has obtained the milk, he still 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM-RELIGION. 20I 

cannot find the ghee. It pervades the milk and has 
also to be got by a definite method. So there is a 
definite method by which the divine consciousness 
can be educed from the soul, but it is only in India 
that complete instruction exists on this point — by 
which a man who is ' ripe ' may systematically and 
without fail attain the object of his search, and by 
which the mass of the people may ascend as by a 
ladder from the very lowest stages to such 'ripeness.'" 

India, he said, was the divine land, and the source 
from which the divine knowledge had always radiated 
over the earth. Sanskrit and Tamil were divine 
languages — all other languages being of lower caste 
and origin. In India the conditions were in every 
way favorable to attainment, but in other lands not 
so. Some Mahomedans had at different times 
adopted the Indian teaching and become Gfianis, 
but it had always been in India, and not in their 
own countries that they had done so. Indeed the 
Mahomedan religion, though so different from the 
Hindu, had come from India, and was due to a great 
Rishi who had quarrelled with the Brahmans and 
had established forms and beliefs in a spirit of oppo- 
sition to them. When I asked him what he thought 
of Christ, he said he was probably an adept in 
gfianam, but his hearers had been the rude mass of 
the people and his teaching had been suited to their 
wants. 

Though these views of his on the influence of 
India and its wisdom - religion on the world may 
appear, and probably are in their way, exaggerated ; 
yet they are partly justified by two facts which 
appear to me practically certain : ( i ) that in every 



202 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

age of the world and in almost every country there 
has been a body of doctrine handed down, which, 
with whatever variations and obscurations, has 
clustered round two or three central ideas, of which 
perhaps that of emancipation from self through 
repeated births is the most important ; so that there 
has been a kind of tacit understanding and free- 
masonry on this subject between the great teachers 
throughout history^ — from the Eastern sages, down 
through Pythagoras, Plato, Paul, the Gnostic 
schools, the great medieval Alchemists, the German 
mystics and others, to the great philosophers and 
poets of our own time ; and that thousands of indi- 
viduals on reaching a certain stage of evolution have 
corroborated and are constantly corroborating from 
their own experience the main points of this doctrine ; 
and (2) that there must have existed in India, or in 
some neighboring region from which India drew 
its tradition, before all history, teachers who saw 
these occult facts and understood them probably 
better than the teachers of historical times, and who 
had themselves reached a stage of evolution at least 
equal to any that has been attained since. 

If this is so then there is reason to believe that 
there is a distinct body of experience and knowledge 
into which the whole human race is destined to rise, 
and which there is every reason to believe will bring 
wonderful and added faculties with it. From what- 
ever mere formalities or husks of tradition or ab- 
normal growths have gathered round it in India, 
this has to be disentangled ; but it is not now any 
more to be the heritage of India alone, but for the 
whole world. If however any one should seek it 



TRADITIONS OF THE ANCIENT WISDOM-RELIGION. 203 

for the advantage or glory to himself of added 
powers and faculties, his quest will be in vain, for 
it is an absolute condition of attainment that all 
action for self as distinct from others shall entirely 
cease. 



INDIA 




GREAT PAGODA IN TEMPLE AT TANJORE. 

{iq'2 feet high.) 



208 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 

Leaving Colombo by steamer one evening In the 
later part of January, I landed on the sandy flat 
shores of Tuticorin the next day about noon. The 
deck was crowded with 250 of the poorest class of 
Tamils, coolies mostly, with women and children, 
lying In decent confusion heaped upon one another, 
passively but sadly enduring the evil motion of the 
ship and the cold night air. One man, nameless, 
unknown, and abjectly thin, died in the night and 
was cast overboard. I was the only Englishman on 
board beside the captain and officers. Said the 
second officer, "Well, I would rather have these 
fellows than a lot of EncjHsh emlg^rants. The lowest 
class of English are the damnedest, dirtiest, 
etceteraest etceteras in the world." 

Tuticorin is a small place with a large cotton mill, 
several Roman Catholic churches and chapels, relics 
of Portuguese times, and a seml-chrlstianised semi- 
wage- slaving native population. From there to 
Madras Is about two days by rail through the great 
plains of the Carnatic, which stretch between the 
sea-shore and the Ghauts — long stretches of sand 
and scrub, scattered bushes and small trees, and the 
kittool palm ; paddy at intervals where the land is 
molster, and considerable quantities of cotton on the 

209 p 



2 10 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

darker soil near Tuticorln ; mud and thatch villages 
under clumps of coco-palm (not such fine trees as in 
Ceylon); and places of village worship — a portico or 
shrine with a great clay elephant or half-circle of 
rude images of horses facing it ; the women working 
in the fields or stacking: the rice-straw in stacks 
similar to our corn-stacks ; the men drawing water 
from their wells to run along the irrigation channels, 
or in some cases actually carrying the water in pots 
to pour over their crops ! 

These plains, like the plains of the Ganges, have 
been the scene of an advanced civilization from 
early times, and have now for two thousand years 
at any rate been occupied by the Tamil populations. 
F'ergusson in his History of Architecture speaks 
of thirty great Dravidian temples to be found In this 
region, " any one of which must have cost as much 
to build as an English cathedral." I visited three, 
those of Madura, Tanjore, and Chidambaram; which 
I will describe, taking that at Tanjore first, as 
having the most definite form and plan. 

I have already (chap. VII.) given some account of 
a smaller Hindu temple. The temples in this region 
are on the same general plan. There Is no vast 
Interior as In a Western cathedral, but they depend 
for their effect rather upon the darkness and in- 
accessibility of the inner shrines and passages, and 
upon the gorgeous external assemblage of towers and 
porticos and tanks and arcades brought together 
within the same enclosure. At Madura the whole 
circumference of the temple is over i,ooo yards, 
and at Sri Rungarn each side of the enclosure is as 
much as half a mile long. In every case there has 



THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 



211 



no doubt been an original shrine of the god, round 
which buildings have accumulated, the external 
enclosure being thrown out into a larger and larger 
circumference as time went on ; and in many cases 
the later buildings, the handsome outlying gateways 
or gopuras and towers, have by their size completely 
dwarfed the shrine to which they are supposed to be 
subsidiary, thus producing a poor artistic effect. 




TEMPLE AT TANJORE, GENERAL VIEW. 
(Portico with colossal bull on the right, priests' quarters atnong trees on the left.') 



In the temple at Tanjore the great court is 170 
yards long by 85 wide. You enter through a gate- 
way forming a pyramidal structure 40 or 50 feet 
high, ornamented with the usual carved figures of 
Siva and his demon doorkeepers, and find yourself 
in a beautiful courtyard, flagged, with an arcade 
running round three sides, the fourth side being 
occupied by priests' quarters ; clumps of coco-palms 
and other trees throw a grateful shade here and 



212 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

there ; in front of you rises the great pyramidal 
tower, or pagoda, 190 feet high, which surmounts 
the main shrine, and between the shrine and your- 
self is an open portico on stone pillars, beneath which 
reposes a huge couchant bull, about six yards long 
and four yards high, said to be cut from a solid 
block of syenite brought 400 miles from the quarries. 
This bull is certainly very primitive work, and is 
quite brown and saturated with constant libations of 
oil ; but whether it is 2,700 years old, as the people 
here say, is another question. The difficulty of 
determining dates in these matters is very great ; 
historical accuracy is unknown in this land ; and 
architectural style gives but an uncertain clue, since it 
has probably changed but little. Thus we have the 
absurdity that while natives of education and intelli- 
gence are asserting on the one hand that some of 
these temples are five or even ten thousand years old, 
the Western architects assert equally strongly that 
they can find no work in them of earlier date than 
1000 A.D., while much of it belongs to the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries. Probably the architects 
are in the main right. It is quite probable however 
that the inner shrines in most of these cases a7X 
extremely old, much older than 1000 a.d. ; but they 
are so buried beneath later work, and access to 
them is so difficult, and if access were obtained their 
more primitive style would so baffle chronology, that 
the question must yet remain undetermined. 

Close to the bull is the kampam or flagstaff, and 
then, beyond, a flight of steps leading up to the 
main sanctuary and the tower or pagoda. The 
sanctuary is all fine and simple work of red sand- 



THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 2I3 

Stone in which horizontal Hnes predominate. At its 
far end and under the pagoda would be no doubt 
the inner shrine or holy of holies — the vimana or 
womb of the temple, a cubical chamber, in which 
the lingam would be placed. Into these mysteries 
we did not penetrate, but contented ourselves with 
looking at the pagoda from the outside. It is a 
very dignified and reposeful piece of work, supposed 
by Fergusson to belong to the early part of the 
fourteenth century ; ninety-six feet square at the 
base, with vertical sides for about fifty feet, and 
then gradually drawing in narrower through thirteen 
stories to the summit (see plate at head of this 
chapter). The red sandstone walls at the base are 
finely and quietly paneled, with statues of Siva — 
not grotesque, but dignified and even graceful — in 
the niches. Higher up in the pyramidal part the 
statues are fewer, and are mingled with couchant 
bulls and flame-like designs composed of multitudi- 
nous cobras and conches and discs (symbols of the 
god — who is lord of Time, the revolving disc, and of 
Space, represented by the sounding conch) in tiers 
of continually diminishing size to the summit, where 
a small dome — said to be also a single massive 
block of stone — is surmounted by a golden pinnacle. 
The natural red of the stone which forms the lower 
walls is artificially deepened in the panels, and the 
traces of blue and green tints remaining, together 
with silvery and brown incrustations of lichen in the 
upper parts, give a wonderful richness to the whole. 
I am afraid however that the pyramidal structure 
is not stone, but brick covered with plaster. The 
frequency of the bull everywhere throughout this 



2 14 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

and other Salvite temples reminds one of the part 
played by the same animal In Persian and Egyptian 
worship, and of the import of the Zodiacal sign 
Taurus as a root-element of the solar religions. 
The general structure and disposition of these 
buildinors miorht I should think also recall the 
Jewish and Egyptian temples. 

All round the base of the great sanctuary and in 
other parts of the temple at Tanjore are immense 
inscriptions — in Telugu, says one of the Brahmans, 
but I cannot tell — some very fresh and apparently 
modern, others nearly quite obliterated. 

The absolute incapacity shown by the Hindus for 
reasoned observation in religious matters was illus- 
trated by my guide — who did not In other respects 
appear to be at all a stickler for his religion. When 
he first called my attention to the pagoda he said, 
adding to his praise of its beauty, '' Yes, and it 
never casts a shadow, never any shadow." Of 
course I did not trouble to argue such a point, and 
as we were standing at the time on the sunlit side 
of the building there certainly was no shadow visible 
there. Presently however — after say half an hour 
— we got round to the other side, and were actually 
standing in the shadow^ which was then quite exten- 
sive, it being only about 9 a.m., and the sun com- 
pletely hidden from us by the pagoda ; I had for- 
gotten all about the matter ; when the guide said 
again and with enthusiasm, ''And it has no shadow." 
Then seeing my face (!) he added^ " No, this is not 
the shadow." " But," said I, " it is!' '' No," he re- 
peated, '' this is not the shadow of the pagoda, for 
that never casts any shadow " — and then he turned 



THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 215 

for corroboration to an old half- naked Brahman 
standing by, who of course repeated the formula 
— and with an air of mechanical conviction which 
made me at once feel that further parley was 
useless. 

It might seem strange to any one not acquainted 
with the peculiarities of human nature that people 
should go on perhaps for centuries calmly stating 
an obvious contradiction in terms like that, without 
ever so to speak turning a hair ! But so it is, and 
I am afraid even we Westerners can by no means 
claim to be innocent of the practice. Among the 
Hindus, however. In connection with religion this 
feature is really an awkward one. Acute and subtle 
as they are, yet when religion comes on the field 
their presence of mind forsakes them, and they make 
the most wild and unjustifiable statements. I am 
sorry to say I have never witnessed a real good 
thungeing miracle myself We have all heard plenty 
of stories of such things in India, and I have met 
various Hindus of ability and culture who evidently 
quite believed them, but (although quite willing and 
ready-equipped to believe them myself) I have al- 
ways felt, since that experience of the shadow, that 
one " couldn't be too careful." 

On either side of the great pagoda, and standing 
separate in the courtyard, are two quite small tem- 
ples dedicated, one to Ganesa and the other to 
Soubramaniya, very elegant, both of them ; and one 
or two stone pandals or porticos for resting places 
of the gods in processions. One can Imagine what 
splendid arenas for processions and festivals these 
courts must afford, in which enormous crowds some- 



2i6 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

times assemble to take part in ceremonials similar 
to that which I have described in chapter VII. 
Owing however to former desecrations by the 
French (who in 1777 fortified the temple itself), and 
present treatment by the British Government, this 
Tanjore temple is not so much frequented as it used 
to be. The late Rajah of Tanjore, prior to 1857, 
supported the place of course with handsome 
funds ; but the British Government only undertakes 
7iecessary repairs and allows a pension of four 
rupees a month to the existing temple servants. 
They are therefore in a poor way. 

The arcade at the far end and down one side of 
the court is frescoed with the usual grotesque sub- 
jects — flying elephants trampling on unbelievers, 
rajahs worshiping the god, women bathing, etc., 
and is furnished the whole way with erect stone 
lingams — there must be at least a hundred of them. 
These lingams are cylindrical stones a foot and 
a half high or so, and eight or nine inches thick, 
some bigger, some smaller, standing in sort of oval 
troughs, which catch the oil which is constantly 
poured over the lingams. Women desiring children 
pay their offerings here, of flowers and oil, and at 
certain festivals these shrines are, notwithstanding 
their number, greatly in request. 

The palace at Tanjore is a very commonplace 
round-arched whitewashed building with several 
courts — in part of which the women-folk of the late 
rajah are still living behind their bars and shutters; 
the whole place a funny medley of Oriental and Wes- 
tern influences ; a court of justice opening right on 



THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 21 7 

to one of the quadrangles, with great oil paintings 
of former rajahs ; a library ; a harness and dress 
room, with elephants' saddles, horses' head-gear, 
rajah's headgear, etc. ; a reception room also 
quite open to a court, with sofas, armchairs, absurd 
prints, a bust of Nelson, and a clockwork ship on 
a troubled sea ; elephants wandering about in the 
big court; painted figures of English officers on the 
sideposts of one of the gates, and so forth. 

Round the palace, and at some little distance 
from the temple, clusters the town itself with its 
narrow alleys and mostly one-storied cottages and 
cabins, in which the goldsmiths and workers in cop- 
per and silver repousse ware carry on their elegant 
trades. 

The ancient city of Madura, though with a popu- 
lation of 60,000, is even more humble in appearance 
than Tanjore. At first sight it looks like a mere 
collection of mud cabins — though of course there 
are English bungalows on the outskirts, and a 
court-house and a church and an American mission- 
room and school, and the rest. The weavers are a 
strong caste here ; they weave silk (and cotton) 
saris, though with failing trade as against the in- 
coming machine-products of capitalism — and you see 
their crimson-dyed pieces stretched on frames in the 
streets. 

The choultrie leading up to one of the temple 
gates is a colonnade i lo yards long, a central walk 
and two aisles, with carven monolithic columns — a 
warrior sitting on a rearing horse trampling shields 
of soldiers and slaying men or tigers, or a huge 



2i8 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

seated king or god, in daring crudeness — and great 
capitals supporting a stone roof. Choultries were 
used as public feeding-halls and resting-places for 
Brahmans, as well as for various ceremonies, and 
in old days when the Brahmans were all-powerful 
such places were everywhere at their service, and 
they had a high old time. This choultrie has how- 
ever been turned into a silk and cotton market, and 
was gay, when I saw it, with crowds of people, and 
goods pinned up to the columns. Emerging from 
it, the eastern gate of the temple stands on the 
opposite side of the road — a huge gdpura, pagoda 
form, fifteen stories or so high, each tier crowded 
with figures — Siva hideous with six arms and 
protruding eyes and teeth, Siva dancing, Siva con- 
templative, Siva and Sakti on the bull, demon 
doorkeepers, etc. — the whole picked out in the usual 
crude reds, yellows, greens, blues, and branching 
out at top into grotesque dragon-forms — a strange 
piece of work, yet having an impressive total effect, 
as it rises 200 feet into the resplendent sky over the 
little mud and thatch cottages — its crude details har- 
monised in the intense blaze, and its myriad nooks 
of shadow haunted by swallows, doves and other 
birds. 

There are nine such gopuras or gate-towers in all 
in this temple, all on much the same plan, ranging 
from 40 to 200 feet in height, and apparently used 
to some extent as dwelling-places by priests, yogis, 
and others. These, together with the various halls, 
shrines, tanks, arcades, etc., form a huge enclosure 
280 yards long by nearly 250 wide. 

On entering the huge doorway of the eastern 



THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 219 

gopura one finds oneself immediately in a wilder- 
ness of columns — the hall of a thousand columns — 
besides arcades, courts, and open and covered spaces, 
— a labyrinth full of people (for this temple is much 
frequented) — many of whom are selling wares, but 
here more for temple use, flowers for offerings, cakes 
of cowdung ashes for rubbing on the forehead, 
embroidered bags to put these in, money-changers, 
elephants here and there, with bundles of green 
stuff among the columns, elephant-keepers, the 
populace arriving with offerings, and plentiful Brah- 
mans going to and fro. The effect of the numerous 
columns — and there are fully a thousand of them, 
fifteen feet high or so — is very fine — the light and 
shade, glimpses of sky or trees through avenues of 
carved monsters, or cavernous labyrinths of the same 
ending in entire darkness : grotesque work and in 
detail often repulsive, but lending itself in the mass 
to the general effect — Siva dancing again, or Ganesa 
with huge belly and elephant head, or Parvati with 
monstrous breasts — '* all out of one stone, all out of 
one stone," the guide keeps repeating : feats of mar- 
velous patience [e.o^. a chain of separate links all cut 
from the same block), though ugly enough very 
often in themselves. 

And now skirting round the inner sanctuary to 
the left, we come into a sort of cloister opening on 
a tank some fifty yards square, from whence we get 
a more general view of the place, and realise its 
expanse. The ^v& or six gopuras visible from our 
standpoint serve to indicate this — all painted in 
strong color but subdued by distance, roofs of 
various portions of the temple, clumps of palm and 



2 20 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

Other trees, two gold-plated turrets shining bril- 
liantly in the sun, the tank itself with handsome 
stone tiers and greenish waters where the wor- 
shipers wash their feet, the cloisters frescoed with 
elaborate legendary designs, and over all in the 
blue sky flocks of birds — swallows, doves, and bright 
green parrots chattering. Once more we plunge 
into dark galleries full of hungry-eyed Brahmans, 
and passing the shrine of Minakshi, into which we 
cannot gain admittance, come into the very sombre 
and striking corridor which runs round the entire 
inner shrine. The huge monoliths here are carven 
with more soberness and grace, and the great capi- 
tals bear cross-beams which in their turn support 
projecting architraves. Hardly a soul do we meet 
as we make the circuit of the three sides. The last 
turn brings us to the entrance of the inner sanctuary 
itself; and here is the gold-plated kambam which I 
have already described (chap. VII.), and close behind 
it the bull Nandi and the gloom of the interior lit 
only by a distant lamp or two. To these inner parts 
come only those who wish to meditate in quiet; and 
in some secluded corner may one occasionally be 
seen, seated on the floor with closed eyes and crossed 
legs, losing or endeavoring to lose himself in 
samddhi. 

Outside the temple in the streets of Madura we 
saw three separate Juggernath cars, used on occa- 
sions in processions. These cars are common 
enough even in small Hindu towns. They are 
unwieldy massive things, often built in several 
tiers, and with solid wooden wheels on lumbering 
wooden axles, which look as if they were put on 



THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 22 [ 

(and probably are) in such a way as to cause the 
maximum of resistance to motion. At StreevelH- 
puthur there is a car thirty feet high, with wheels 
eight feet in diameter. The people harness them- 
selves to these things literally in thousands ; the 
harder the car is to move, the greater naturally is 
the dignity of the god who rides upon it, and the 
excitement becomes intense when he is at last fairly 
got under weigh. But I have not witnessed one of 
these processions. 

The temple of Chidambaram is in some respects 
more interesting than those of Tanjore and Madura. 
It is in fact more highly thought of as a goal of 
pilgrimage and a place of festival than any other 
South Indian temple, and may be said to be the 
Benares of South India. The word Chidambaram 
means region of puj^e consciousness, and Siva is wor- 
shiped here under his most excellent name of 
Nataraja, lord of the dance. " O thou who dancest 
thy illimitable dance in the heaven of pure con- 
sciousness." 

There is a little railway station of Chidambaram, 
but it is two or three miles from the temple and the 
town ; and though the town itself numbers some 
20,000 to 30,000 inhabitants, there is not a single 
Englishman resident in the place or within some 
miles of it, the only white-faced inhabitant being a 
Eurasian druggist who keeps a shop there. When 
I was there the whole temple was in course of re- 
pair, and the Brahmans were such a nuisance that 
I really did not get so good an idea of the place as I 
could have wished. These gentry swarm here, and 



2 2 2 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

descend upon one like birds of prey, in quest of tips ; 
indeed the physiognomy of a great many of them 
suggests the kite family — sharp eyes, rather close 
together, and a thin aquiline nose ; this with their 
laro^e foreheads lookinor all the larger on account of 
the shaven head does not give a very favorable 
impression. 

The ascendancy of the Brahman caste is certainly 
a very remarkable historical fact. It is possible 
that at one time they really resembled the guardians 
of Plato's ideal republic — teachers and rulers who 
themselves possessed nothing and were supported 
by the contributions of the people ; but before so 
many centuries had gone by they must have made 
the first part of their functions subsidiary to the 
second, and now — though a good many of them ply 
trades and avocations of one kind or another — the 
majority are mere onhangers of the temples, where 
they become sharers of the funds devoted to the 
temple services, and bleed the pockets of pious 
devotees. When a Hindu of any worldly sub- 
stance approaches one of these places, he is immedi- 
ately set upon by five or six loafers of this kind — 
each of whom claims that his is the Brahman family 
which has always done the priestly services for the 
visitor's family (and indeed they do keep careful 
note of these matters), and that he therefore should 
conduct the visitor to the proper quarter of the 
temple, take his offerings to the god, and receive 
his reward accordingly. 

This temple is I should think about the same 
size as that at Madura, but more open like the Tan- 
jore temple. There are four gopuras of about equal 



THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 223 

size — 120 feet high or so — at the four points of the 
compass. On entering by the eastern one the hall 
of a thousand columns stands away in the court to 
the right, and gives the idea of a complete temple 
in itself The sides and back end are closed in, 
but the front forms a sort of portico, and columns 
similar to those of the portico — every one a mono- 
lith — extend through the entire interior. There is 
a lane or aisle down the middle, and then on each 
side they stand thick, in rows perhaps ten feet apart. 
As you go in the gloom gets deeper and deeper. 
Only here and there a gap in the external wall 
throws a w^eird light. The whole suggests a rock 
cave cut in multitudinous pillars to support the over- 
lying weight, or a gloomy forest of tree-trunks. But 
the columns are commonplace in themselves, and 
their number and closeness together under a flat 
roof of no great weight is not architecturally admir- 
able. When you reach the interior sanctum, where 
you might expect to find the god at home, you dis- 
cover a mere bare cavity, so dark that you cannot 
see the roof, and occupied by innumerable bats who 
resent your intrusion with squeaks and shrieks. 
But my guide explained to me that twice a year 
the god does come to dwell there, and then they 
clean the place up and decorate it with lamps for a 
season. 

A large tank stands just west of this hall — a tank 
200 feet long I should think — in which men (and 
women) were washing their feet and clothes. These 
tanks are attached to every temple. At Madura 
there is a very beautiful one, " the golden lotus 
tank," two miles away from the temple, with a 



224 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



pagoda on an Island In the midst of it — to which 
they resort at the Taypusam festival. Also at Myla- 
pore, Madras, there Is a handsome tank with pagoda 
just outside the temple ; but mostly they are within 
the precincts. 

Entering- the inner inclosure at Chidambaram you 
come to various arcades and shrines, where Brah- 





& Vv 


i 






^^^gf; 


m 


ii 

il 

; ; 1 il 








^^K» 




^-i*'^^' V- """"^^^^m 




III 







TEMPLE AND TANK AT MYLAPORE, MADRAS. 

mans and chetties raged. The chetties have great 
influence at Chidambaram ; their caste supplies I 
believe the main funds of the temple — which Is prac- 
tically therefore in their hands. I was presented 
with flower garlands and a lime, and expected to 
make my money-offering in front of a little temple, 
of Vishnu I think, which they seasonably explained 
to me was to be roofed with gold ! On the other 



THE SOUTH INDIAN TEMPLES. 2 25 

hand — to the left — was a temple to Siva — both these 
forms being worshiped here. Into the shrine of 
Parvati I did not penetrate, but it looked ancient 
and curious. Fergusson says that this shrine be- 
longs to the 14th or 15th centuries, and the inner 
sanctuaries to somewhere about 1000 a.u., while 
the hall of the thousand columns — which shows 
Mahomedan influence — is as late as the 17th cen- 
tury. 

An elderly stoutish man, half naked, but with 
some authority evidently — who proved afterwards to 
be the head of the chetties — announced in a loud 
voice that I was to be treated with respect and 
shown as much as possible — which only meant that 
I was to give as large an offering as possible. Then 
an excited-looking fellow came up, a medium-sized 
man of about forty, and began talking cockney 
English as fluently and idiomatically as if he had 
been born by the Thames, rattling off verses and 
nursery rhymes with absurd familiarity. The rest 
said he was a cranky Brahman with an insane gift for 
language — knew Sanskrit and ever so many tongues. 

Escaping from these I left the temple and went 
into the village to see the goldsmiths who are em- 
ployed (by the chetties) on work connected with its 
restoration. Found a large workshop where they 
were making brass roof- pinnacles, salvers, pedestals 
for images, etc., and plating the same with gold leaf 
or plates — also store of solid gold things — armlets 
and breastplates for the gods, etc. — another touch 
remindful of Greek life. The gold leaf was being 
beaten out between thin membranes — many leaves 
at once — with a hammer. All handwork, of course. 

Q 



2 26 FROM ADAm's PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

My guide — who is the station clerk and a Brah- 
man, while his station-master is a Sudra (O this 
steam-engine !)— told me on the way back that the 
others at the station often advised him to give up 
his caste practices ; but he had plenty of time in the 
middle of the day, between the trains, to go through 
his ablutions and other ceremonies, and he did not 
see why he should not do so. 

As we walked along the road we met two pil- 
grims — with orange- colored cloths — coming along. 
One of them, a hairy, wild, and obstinate-looking 
old man, evidently spotted the hated Englishman 
from afar, and as he passed put his tongue gently 
but firmly out at me ! 



CHAPTER XIII. 

MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 

India beggars description — the interminable races, 
languages, creeds, colors, manners, costumes. 

The streets of Madras (Blacktown) are a blaze 
of color — predominant white, but red, orange, 
brilliant green and even blue cloths and turbans 
meet the eye in every direction. Blacktown re- 
minds one of Pompeii — as it may have been in its 
time — mostly one-storied buildings, stuccoed brick 
with little colonnades or lean-to thatches in front, 
cool dark stone interiors with little or no furniture 
— a bit of a court somewhere inside, with a gleam of 
the relentless sun — a few mango leaves over the 
door in honor of the Pongal festival (now going 
on), and saffron smeared on doorposts ; a woman 
standing half lost in shadow, men squatting idling 
in a verandah, a brahman cow with a bright brass 
necklace lying down just in the street — (sometimes 
in the verandah itself) ; a Hindu temple with its 
queer creepy images fronting on the street, and a 
Juggernath car under a tall thatch, waiting for its 
festival ; or a white arabesqued and gimp-arched 
mosque with tall minarets pinnacled with gold 
spiring up into the blue ; absurd little stalls with 
men squatted am.ong their baskets and piled grains 



228 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

and fruits ; and always this wonderful crowd going 
up and down between. 

I should think half the people have religious 
marks on their foreheads — black, white, or red spots 
on the frontal sinus — horizontal lines (Saivite), ver- 
tical lines (Vaishnavite) — sometimes two vertical 
white marks joined at the base with a red mark 
betw^een, sometimes a streak of color all down the 
ridge of the nose — and so forth. It is as if every 
little sect or schism of the Christian Church declared 
itself by a symbol on the brow. 

How different from Ceylon! There is a certain 
severity about India, both climate and people. The 
dry soil, the burning sun (for though so much 
farther north the sun has a more wicked quality 
about it here), are matched by a certain aridity and 
tension in the people. Ceylon is idyllic, romantic — 
the plentiful foliage and shade everywhere, the easy- 
going nature of the Cinghalese themselves, the 
absence of caste — even the English are softened 
towards such willing subjects. But here, such 
barriers, such a noli-me-tangere atmosphere ! — the 
latent feud between Hindu and Mussulman every- 
where, their combined detestation of the English 
springing out upon you from faces passing ; rigid 
orthodoxies and superiorities ; the Mahomedans 
(often big and moderately well-conditioned men) 
looking down with some contempt upon the lean 
Hindu ; the Hindus equally satisfied in their own 
superiority, comforting themselves with quotations 
ixom. Shastras and Puranas. 

As to the boatmen and drivers and guides and 
servants generally, they torment one like gadflies ; 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 2 29 

not swindling one in a nice open riant way like the 
Italians of the same ilk, but with smothered dodges 
and obsequious craft. The last hotel I was at here 
was odious — a lying Indian manager, lying and 
cringing servants, and an idiotic old man who acted 
as my '' boy " and tormented my life out of me, 
fiddling around with my slippers on pretence of 
doing something, or holding the towel in readiness 
for me while I was washing my face. On my 
leaving, the manager — as he presented his bill with 
utmost dignity and grace — asked for a tip ; so did 
the head-waiter, and all the servants down ta the 
bath-man ; then there were coolies to carry my 
luggage from the hotel steps (where the servants 
of course left it) to the cab, and then when I had 
started, the proprietor of the cab ran after it, stopped 
it, and demanded a larger fare than I had agreed 
to I On one occasion (in taking a boat) I counted 
eleven people who put in a claim for bakshish. 
Small change cannot last for ever, and even one's 
vocabulary of oaths is liable to be exhausted in time ! 
It requires a little tact to glide through all this 
without exposing oneself to the enemy. Good old 
John Bull pays through the nose for being ruler of 
this country. He overwhelms the people by force, 
but they turn upon him — as the weaker is prone to 
do — through craft ; and truly they have their re- 
venge. Half believing in the idea that as sahib and 
ruler of the country he must live in such and such 
style, have so many servants, etc., or he would lose 
his prestige, he acquiesces in a system of impositions ; 
he is pestered to death, and hates it all, but he must 
submit. And the worst is one is conscious all the 



230 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANT A. 

time of being laughed at for one's pains. But 
British visitors must not commit the mistake — so 
commonly made by people in a foreign country — of 
supposing that the classes created in India by our 
presence, and who in some sense are the reflection 
of our own sins, are or represent the normal popu- 
lation — even though we naturally see more of them 
than we do of the latter. 

There are however in the great cities of India 
little hotels kept and frequented by English folk 
where one is comparatively safe from importunities ; 
and if you are willing to be altogether a second-rate 
person, and go to these places, travel second class 
by train, ride in bullock-hackeries, and " undermine 
the empire " generally by doing other such undigni- 
fied things, you may travel with both peace of mind 
and security of pocket. 

Madras generally is a most straggling, dull, and 
(at night) ill-lighted place. Blacktown, already 
described, and which lies near the harbor, is the 
chief centre of native life ; but the city generally, 
including other native centres, plexuses of com- 
mercial life, knots of European hotels and shops, 
barracks, hospitals, suburban villas and bungalows, 
stretches away with great intervals of dreary roads 
between for miles and miles, over a dead flat on 
whose shore the surf beats monotonously. Adyar, 
where the Theosophists have their headquarters — 
and which is still only a suburb of Madras — is seven 
miles distant from the harbor. The city however, 
though shorn of its former importance as far as the 
British are concerned, and slumberinor on its memo- 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 23 1 

ries of a hundred years ago, Is a great centre of 
native activity, literary and political ; the National 
Indian Congress receives some of Its strongest 
support from It ; many influential oysters reside 
here ; papers like the Hindu, both in English and 
vernacular, are published here, and a great number 
of books printed, in Tamil and other South Indian 
languages. 

At Adyar I saw Bertram Kelghtley and one or 
two others, and had some pleasant chats with them. 
Col. Olcott was absent just at the time. The Theo- 
sophist villa, with roomy lecture-hall and library, 
stands pleasantly among woods on the bank of a 
river and within half a mile of the sea. Passing 
from the library through sandalwood doors into an 
Inner sanctum I was shown a variety of curios con- 
nected with Madame Blavatsky, among which were 
a portrait, apparently done in a somewhat dashing 
style — just the head of a man, surrounded with 
clouds and filaments — In blue pigment on a piece of 
white silk, which was " precipitated " by Madame 
Blavatsky In Col. Olcott's presence — she simply 
placing her two hands on the white silk for a moment. 
Kelghtley told me that Col. Olcott tested a small 
portion of the silk so colored, but found the pigment 
so fast In the fibre that It could not by any means 
be washed out. There were also two oil portraits — 
heads, well framed and reverently guarded behind 
a curtain — of the now celebrated Kout HoumI, 
Madame Blavatsky's Guru, and of another. Col. 
Olcott's Guru — both fine-looking men, apparently 
between forty and fifty years of age, with shortish 
beards and (as far as I could see, for the daylight 



232 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

was beginning to fail) dark brown hair ; and both 
with large eyes and what might be called a spiritual 
glow in their faces. Madame Blavatsky knew Col. 
Olcott's Guru as well as her own, and the history 
of these two portraits (as told me by Keightley) is 
that they were done by a German artist whom she 
met in the course of her travels. Considerinof him 
competent for the work^ — and he being willing to 
undertake it — she projected the images of the two 
Gurus into his mind, and he painted from the mental 
pictures — she placing her hand on his head during 
the operation. The German artist medium ac- 
counted for the decidedly mawkish expression of 
both faces, as well as for the considerable likeness to 
each other — ^which considering that Kout Houmi 
dates from Cashmere, and the other (I think) from 
Thibet, might not have been expected. All the 
same they are fine faces, and it is not impossible 
that they may be, as I believe Madame Blavatsky 
and Col. Olcott considered them, good likenesses. 
Keightley was evidently much impressed by the 
" old lady's " clairvoyant power, saying that some- 
times in her letters from England she displayed a 
knowledge of what was going on at Adyar, which 
he could not account for. Altogether I had an 
interesting conversation with him. 

Among other places in Madras I visited one of the 
little Pompeiian houses in Blacktown, which I have 
already described — where a Hindu acquaintance, 
a small contractor, is living : a little office, then a 
big room divided in two by a curtain — parlor in 
front and domestic room behind — all cool and dark 
and devoid of furniture, and little back premises 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 233 

into which I did not come. He is an active- 
minded man, and very keen about the Indian Con- 
gress to which he was delegate last year, sends 
hundreds of copies of the Hindu and other "incen- 
diary" publications about the country each week, 
and like thousands and hundreds of thousands of 
his fellow-countrymen to-day, has learnt the lessons 
taught him by the British Government so well that 
the one thing he lives for is to see electoral and 
representative institutions embedded into the life of 
the Indian peoples, and the images of Vishnu and 
Siva supplanted in the temples by those of John 
Stuart Mill and Herbert Spencer. 

While I was there two elderly gentlemen of quite 
the old school called — innocent enough of Herbert 
Spencer and of cloth coats and trousers — with their 
white muslins round their bodies, and red shawls 
over their shoulders, and grey-haired keen narrow 
faces and bare shins and horny feet, which they 
tucked up onto their chairs as they sat ; but with 
good composed unhurried manners, as all Easterns 
of the old school seem to have. This habit of the 
mild Hindu, of tucking his feet under him, is his 
ever-present refuge in time of trouble or weariness ; 
at the railway station or in any public place you may 
see him sitting on a seat, and beneath him, in the 
place where his feet ought to be, are his red slippers ; 
but of visible connection between them and his 
body there is none — as if he had already severed 
connection with the earth and was on the way to- 
ward heaven. 

Calcutta. — Arrived 6th Feb., about 4 p.m. — 
steaming all day since dawn up the Hooghly, 130 



234 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

miles from the light-boat at its mouth to Calcutta — 
a dismal river, with dismal flat shores, sandy and 
dry in places and only grown with scrub, in others 
apparently damp, to judge by the clumps of bamboo ; 
landscape often like Lincolnshire, trees of similar 
shape, stacks of rice-straw looking just like our 
stacks, mud and thatch villages ; in other places the 
palmyra and coco-nut palm ; and doubtless in parts 
wild tangles and jungles haunted by tigers ; abori- 
ginal boats going up and down ; and the Hooghly 
narrowing at last from four or five miles near its 
mouth to half a mile at the Howrah bridge of boats. 

Nearing Calcutta brick-kilns and the smoky tall 
chimneys of civilisation appear along the banks, and 
soon we find ourselves among docks and wharfs, 
and a forest of shipping alongside of a modern- 
looking city (that part of it). 

Calcutta is built on a dead flat. There is a con- 
siderable European quarter of five-storied buildings, 
offices, warehouses, law-courts, hotels, shops, resi- 
dences, wide streets and open spaces, gardens, etc. ; 
after which the city breaks away into long straggling 
lines of native dwellings — small flat-roofed tene- 
ments and shops, crowded bazaars and tram-lines — 
embedding almost aboriginal quarters, narrow lanes 
with mere mud and tile cabins — labyrinths where a 
European is stared at. 

The white dome of the Post Office, like a small 
St. Paul's, dominates the whole riverside city with 
its crowded shipping and animated quays — fit 
symbol of modern influences. Round no temple or 
mosque or minster does the civilising Englishman 
group his city, but round the G.P.O. It would 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 235 

almost seem, here in Calcutta, as if the mere rush of 
commercial interests had smashed up the native 
sanctions of race and religion. The orderly rigor 
of caste, which is evident in Madras, is not seen ; 
dress is untidy and unclean, the religious marks if 
put on at all are put on carelessly ; faces are low 
in type, lazy, cunning, bent on mere lucre. The 
Bengali is however by nature a versatile flexile 
creature, sadly wanting in backbone, and probably 
has succumbed easily to the new disorganising 
forces. Then the mere mixture of populations here 
may have a good deal to do with it. A huge tur- 
moil throngs the bazaars, not only Bengalis, but 
Hindustanis, Mahomedans, Chinese, and seedy- 
looking Eurasians — in whom one can discern no 
organising element or seed-form of patriotism, 
religion, or culture (with the exception perhaps of 
the Chinese). It seems to be a case of a dirty 
Western commercialism in the place of the old 
Pharisaism of caste and religion, and it is hard to 
say which may be the worst. 

Sunday (the 8th) was a great day for bathing in 
the river. I did not know that the Hooghly was 
for such purposes considered to be a part of the 
Ganges, but it appears that it is ; and owing to 
an important and rare astronomical conjunction, 
announced in the almanacs, bathing on that day was 
specially purificatory. In the morning the w^ater- 
side was thronged with people, and groups of 
pilgrims from a distance could be seen coming in 
along the roads. Wherever the banks shelved down 
to the water, or the quays and river-walls allowed, 
huge crowds (here mostly dressed in unbleached 



2.^6 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 



o 



cotton, with little color) could be seen preparing 
to bathe, or renewing themselves afterwards — beg- 
gars at all the approaches spreading their cloths 
on the ground to catch the scanty handfuls of rice 
thrown to them ; everywhere squatted, small ven- 
dors of flowers for offerings, or of oil, or sandalwood 
paste for smearing the body with after the bath, or 
of colored pigments for painting sect-marks on the 
forehead ; strings of peasants followed by their wives 
and children ; old infirm people piloted by sons and 
daughters ; here a little old woman, small like a 
child, drawn in a clumsy wooden barrow to the 
waterside ; there a horrible blind man with matted 
hair, squatted, yelling texts from the holy books ; 
here family groups and relatives chatting together, 
or cliques and clubs of young men coming up out 
of the water — brass pots glancing, and long hair 
uncurled in the wind. If you imagine all this taking 
place on a fine summer's day somewhere a little 
below London Bridge, the scene would hardly be 
more incongruous than it is here by the handsome 
wharfs of Calcutta Strand, under the very noses of 
the great black-hulled steamships which to-day 
perhaps or to-morrow are sailing for the West. 

The evening before the festival I went with 
Panna Lall B. to a European circus which happened 
to be in the place — same absurd incongruity — dense 
masses of " oysters " perched or sitting cross-legged 
on their benches — their wraps drawn round them, 
for the night was really cold — watching under the 
electric light the lovely and decidedly well-developed 
Miss Alexandra in tights performing on the trapeze, 
or little '' Minnie " jumping through rings of flame. 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 237 

Considering that, except among the poorest classes 
(peasants, etc.), the BengaHs keep their women 
closely shut up, and that it is a rare thing to see a 
female (unless it be a child or old woman) in the 
streets of Calcutta — a scene of this kind at the circus 
must cause a sufficient sensation ; and indeed the 
smile which curled the lips of some of these rather 
Mephistophelean spectators was something which I 
shall not easily forget. 

But the mass of the people of India must be 
wretchedly poor. These half-starved peasants from 
the surrounding country wandering about — their 
thin thin wives and daughters trailing after them^ 
holding on to the man's unbleached and scanty 
cotton cloth — over the maidan, through the Asiatic 
Museum, through the streets, by the riverside — 
with gaping yet listless faces — are a sad and touching 
sight ; yet it only corroborates what I have seen in 
other parts. *' Wide and deepening poverty all over 
the land, such as the world has never before seen on 
so vast a scale," says Digby ; and with some testi- 
mony to show that the people in the native states 
are in a better condition than those under our 
organisation. Even if the poverty is not increasing 
(and this is a matter on which it is most difficult 
to form a definite opinion), there seems to be no 
evidence to show that it is decreasing. The famines 
go on with at least undiminished severity, and the 
widespread agricultural paralysis is by no means 
really compensated by a fallacious commercial pros- 
perity, which in the larger centres is enriching the 
few at the expense of the many. 

After watching these pathetic crowds on Sunday, 



230 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

I went the next day to a meeting of the Countess 
of Dufferin's Fund for the Medical Education of 
Indian Women — a well-meant movement, which 
after beinor launched with all advantaores and eclat 
has only met with moderate success. A very 
varied spectacle of dress and nationality. Rajahs 
and native chiefs of all sorts of hues and costumes ; 
yellow silk tunics figured with flowers, flowing purple 
robes, dainty little turbans over dark mustachioed 
faces, sprays and feathers of diamonds ; English 
ladies in the pink of fashion, military uniforms, and 
the Viceroy and Lady Lansdowne in the centre in 
quiet morning costume. The English speakers 
belauded the native chiefs present, and the native 
chiefs complimented the English ladies ; but after 
the spectacle of the day before the general con- 
gratulations fell rather flat upon me, nor did they 
appear to be justified by the rather melancholy and 
inefficient appearance of the bevy of native women 
students and nurses present. Sir Chas. Elliott, the 
Lieut.-Governor, made a kindly speech, which left 
on one the unpleasant impression that one sometimes 
gets from those big-brained doctrinaire persons 
whose amiability is all the more hard and narrow- 
minded because it is so well-intentioned. Lord 
Lansdowne underneath an exterior (physical and 
mental) of decadent aristocracy seems to have just 
a spark of the old English high-caste ruling quality 
about him — which was certainly good in its time, but 
will be of little use I fear to the half-starved peasants 
of to-day. 

I fancy, with all respect to the genuine good 
intention shown in these zenana missions, medical 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 239 

education funds, etc., there must be something 
rather comical to the natives themselves in philan- 
thropic efforts of this kind, made by a people who 
understand the country so little as the English do ; 
just as there is something rather comical to the 
masses at home in the toy " charities " and missions 
of the lady and gentleman here, and suggestive of 
an old parable about a mote and a beam. In a 
lecture given by the Maharajah of Benares, in July, 
1888, he chaffed these philanthropists somewhat — 
recounting how one such lady " actually regretted 
that the peasant cultivators could not provide them- 
selves with boots ! while another had a lonof con- 
versation with a Rani on the ill effects of infant 
marriage, and was surprised to hear that the Rani 
had been married at the age of seven, and had sons 
and grandsons, all of whom were happy and con- 
tented. The Rani then turned to the lady, and 
observing that her hair was turning grey, inquired 
whether no one had ever offered her proposals of 
marriage, and suggested that the English laws 
required some modification to insure ladies against 
remaining so long in a state of single blessedness." 

But the most Interesting people, to me, whom I 
have met here, are a little coterie of Beno^alis who 
live quite away in the native part of the city. 
Chundi Churn B. is a schoolmaster, and keeps a 
small school of thirty or forty boys, which lies 
back in a tangle of narrow lanes and alleys, but is 
quite a civilised little place with benches and desks 
just like an English school — except that like all the 
schools in this part of the world it Is quite open to 
the street (with trellised sides in this case), so that 



240 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



passers-by can quite easily see and be seen. Chundi 
Churn told me that he started the school on purely 
native lines, but had poor success until he introduced 
the English curriculum — English history, science, 
Euclid, Algebra, etc. — when he soon got as many 
boys as he wanted. As in all the Indian schools 
they work what appear to us frightfully long hours, 




CHUNDI CHURN B. 



7-9 a.m. ; then an hour for breakfast ; 10 a.m. to 

2 p.m., and then an hour for dinner ; and again from 

3 till 6. I fancy they must take it fairly easy ; and 
then it is certain that the native boys — though they 
have active little brains — are much more quiescent 
than the English, are content to sit still, and the 
master has little trouble in keeping order. 

I have been round several evenlncrs after school 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 24 1 

hours and chatted with Chundi Churn and his 
brother and various friends that dropped in — an 
intelhgent Httle community. Two of them are 
Brahman fellows of about thirty, with the eager 
tense look that the Brahmans mostly have, but 
good imaginative faces. We discuss the Indian 
Congress, English and Indian customs, the child- 
marriage question (which is raging just now), and 
the great question of Caste. They insist on my 
eating various sweet cakes of native preparation, 
but will not eat with me ; and they smoke hubble- 
bubble pipes, which they pass round — but the Brah- 
mans must have a hubble-bubble to themselves ! 
At the same time they are careful to explain that 
" no one believes in all this now" ; but as they are 
at home, and only trellis-work between us and the 
lane, it would not do to violate the rules. And this, 
I believe, is largely the state of affairs. The 
anglicising population, for the sake of parents' 
feelings (and they are tender on this point), or 
respectability, or commercial connection, keep up a 
show of caste rules which they have ceased or are 
cea.sing to believe in ; and it is an open secret that 
Brahman gentlemen of high standing in their caste, 
not unfrequently when traveling, or in places where 
they are not known, resort to British hotels and 
have a high feed of beefsteaks and champagne ! 

One of the Brahmans is clerk in a mercantile 
establishment in the English part of Calcutta, and 
some of the others are students at the Metropolitan 
College. Western education is going on at a tremen- 
dous rate — so much so that there will soon be an edu- 
cated proletariat (what Grant Duff calls '' the worst 

R 



242 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

of evils ") in the great cities of India. Two or three 
of the party are very quick at mathematics — ^which 
seems to be a subject in which the BengaHs excel — 
and readily picked up the key to one or two little 
problems which I presented to them. They all seem 
to be much impressed with the greatness of Western 
civilisation — for the present at any rate, but will 
react probably before so very long. Finding I 
knew something of astronomy they pelted me with 
questions about the stars, and insisted on going 
out at night and trying to hunt up the ecliptic 
among the constellations ! Then after a time they 
would relapse into tale-telling and music. The fel- 
lows still show a truly Oriental love of long stories, 
and would listen with rapt attention to one of their 
party relating some ancient yarn about the child of 
a king who was exposed in the woods and ultimately 
came back after many convolutions of adventure and 
claimed his kingdom — just as if they had not heard 
it before ; or about the chaste Draupatha (in the 
Mahabha»'ata) who — when Duriyodhana, desiring 
to insult her before a large assembly, gave orders 
that she should be stripped of her cloth — thought of 
Vishnu, and her cloth went on lengthening and un- 
winding indefinitely — their stories lengthening and 
unwinding like Draupatha's cloth, in a way that 
would have delighted the heart of William Morris. 

Panna Lall, Chundi Churn's brother, is a bright- 
mannered youth of about twenty, of a modest affec- 
tionate disposition, and with a certain grace and 
dignity of bearing. He doesn't care about books, 
but has a good ear and plays one or two musical 
instruments in an easy unstudied way ; lives in quite 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 



243 



primitive style with his father down in one of these 
back lanes — but has a tiny little room of his own 
where he takes me to sit and chat with friends. 
There is no furniture, but you squat cross-legged on 
the floor — so there is plenty of room for quite a 
party. There may be a box or two in a corner, and on 
the walls some shelves and a few prints. Indeed it 



r> i-mik 




"""^ 



'% 

w 



PANNA LALL 



gives one a curious sensation to see crude colored 
woodcuts, framed under glass and exactly resem- 
bling the pictures of the Virgin or of Christ common 
in Catholic countries, and then on nearer approach 
to find that they represent Siva or ParvatI, or among 
the Bengalis Chaitanya, or some other incarnation 
of the divinity, standing or seated on a lotus flower 



244 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

and with benign head encircled by an aureole. 
These pictures are printed in Calcutta. 

Panna Lall is quite an athlete, and interested in 
anything in that line. He took me one day to a 
little bit of ground where he and some friends have 
their horizontal bars, etc. ; they did some good 
tumbling and tight- rope walking, and with their 
golden-brown skins and muscular bodies looked well 
when stripped. The Bengali Babu is often of a 
lightish-brown colour. The people generally wear 
more clothing than in South India, and at this time 
of year throw a brown woollen shawl over their 
shoulders, toga fashion ; their heads are almost 
always bare, but they have taken a great fancy 
lately in Calcutta to wearing narrow-toed patent- 
leather shoes, which look sufficiently absurd and 
must be fearfully uncomfortable on their well-de- 
veloped broad feet. Only it is a mark of distinction 
and civilisation ! Panna Lall every now and then, 
when walking, entreats me to stop and rest under a 
tree, and then takes off his shoes and waggles his 
toes about to soothe and refresh them ! I am never 
tired of admiring the foot in its native state. It is 
so broad and free and full and muscular, with a 
good concave curve on the inner line, and the toes 
standing well apart from each other— so different 
from the ill-nourished unsightly thing we are accus- 
tomed to. I sometimes think we can never attain 
to a broad free and full life on our present under- 
standings in the West. 

Another absurd custom of the young Babus here 
(I am speaking of the mass of the people) is that 
<^{ putting on a Manchester cotton shirt, pure and 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 245 

simple, when they wish to appear in full dress ! As 
they do not wear trousers, the effect (combined 
with the patent-leather shoes) is very naive and 
touching. 

On the whole Calcutta does not impress me very 
favorably. There is the official society, and the 
trading and commercial ditto, and the educational 
and legal sections, and a considerable racing popula- 
tion, including a great number of jockeys and horse- 
trainers who come over with their girls from Austra- 
lia for the season ; there is a fine zoological garden 
and a botanic garden, and the Asiatic Museum, 
and various public buildings, and two or three 
colleges, including a college for native women ; but 
all these interests seem to serve chiefly in the direc- 
tion of disorganizing the mass of the people and the 
primitive sanctions of their life. Taking it at its 
worst the general population is dirty, lazy and rapa- 
cious. As in our slums, a kind of listlessness and 
despair marks the people in the poorest quarters 
— who, instead of congregating as with us round a 
beershop, may be seen perching about on doorsteps 
and even on the tops of walls, sitting on their heels 
with knees drawn up to the chin, and a draggled gar- 
ment about them — looking painfully like vultures, 
and generally chewing betel, that common resource 
against hunger. One notes however, even here, a 
few fine faces, and a good many very pathetic ones, 
of old people. 

Chundi Churn plays a little on the sitar — the 
original of our guitar I suppose — an instrument 
with a long neck and small belly made of a pumpkin 
shell, and four or five wires (originally three wires. 



246 FROM Adam's peak to elephant a. 

from si, three, and tar, string). The frets are mov- 
able, so that keeping the same key-note you can 
play in major, minor, or other modes. I am begin- 
ning to understand the Indian music better now, 
after having heard a little in different places ; but 
have not very much systematic knowledge about it. 
It appears that they divide the octave into twenty- 
two exactly equal parts, called S7'itti — each part hav- 
ing its own special name. An interval of four S7'utis 
may then be said to constitute a major tone, three 
srutis a minor tone, and two a semitone — though this 
is not quite exact ; and out of these three intervals, 
major tone, minor tone, and semitone, a seven-step 
scale is constituted very nearly similar to ours, and 
having the semitones in the same places. The key- 
note of this scale is called Sa or Ansa, and corre- 
sponds to our Do, and though not exactly a key-note 
in the modern sense of the word, it is the most 
accentuated note and '' rules the others." By adopt- 
ing any of the other six notes as key-note scales are 
got very nearly corresponding to the seven Grego- 
rian scales of the old church music ; and one very 
commonly in use, if I am not mistaken, corresponds 
to the Phrygian mode — i.e. that which we produce 
on the piano by using E as tonic and playing all the 
white keys. 

These seven scales constituted the first system of 
Hindu music ; but they had a second system in 
which the notes, though preserving their names, 
could be, any of them, raised or dropped by a sruti ; 
and a third system in which one or two notes being 
omitted, five or six-step scales were produced. 

Out of the hundreds (or thousands) of possible 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 247 

scales thus producible, the Oriental mind, unable to 
find the scientific root of the whole business, made a 
fantastic selection. There were six sons of Brahma 
and Saraswati called Ragas — the genii of the pas- 
sions. Six principal scales were named after these 
genii and called Rags, and then each of these had 
five feminine sub- scales or Raginas attached to it; and 
so forth. Then the numbers five, six and seven 
became typical of divisions of the year, days of the 
week, the number of planets, etc., and very soon a 
most fanciful system was elaborated — the remains 
only of which have lingered to the present day. The 
old notation appears to have died out ; but a vast num- 
ber of time-honored melodies, or rather phrases, in 
the different modes and scales, have been preserved 
by tradition — and are now called 7^ags and raginas, 
though these names were formerly applicable to the 
scales only. These rags and raginas are not what 
we should call tunes, but are brief or extended 
phrases, which have been classified as suitable for 
various occasions, emotions, festivals, times of day, 
seasons of the year, and the like ; and these the 
musician uses and combines, within limits, to his 
taste ; and in the hands of a skilful person they are 
very effective, but become abominably insipid and 
conventional if treated in a mechanical way. 

Besides the regular notes belonging to any given 
scale, the Hindus use the quarter tones, or srutis, a 
good deal in the little turns and twanks of which 
they are so fond ; and sometimes by slurring they 
pass through every intermediate gradation of tone. 
The slur, which is congenial to the mystic vague 
melody of the East, and so foreign to the distinct 



248 



FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



articulation of Western music, is often used in sing- 
ing ; and on the sitar a slight slurring rise of tone 
is produced by drawing the string sideways along 
the fret — a device which recalls the clavichord of 
which Sebastian Bach was so fond, in which instru- 
ment the hammer which struck the string was also 
the bridge which defined its leno^th, so that an in- 




WOMAN PLAYING SITAR. 



creased pressure by the finger on the key after the 
first striking of the note raised the bridge a little, 
tightened the string, and so produced a plaintive 
rise of tone. 

All this gives the idea of a complicated system of 
music ; and it will be seen that in the range of mere 
melody the Hindu music has really a greater capa- 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 249 

city of subtle expression than ours. But in harmony 
it is deficient — the ground idea of their harmony 
being the use of a drone bass — which bass, though 
it may change not unfrequently, always seems to 
preserve the drone character. And of course the 
deficiency in harmony reacts on and limits the play 
of melody. 

The general character of the music, like that of 
much of the Indian life, reminds one of our own medi- 
aeval times. The monkish plain-song and the early 
minstrel music of Europe were probably very similar 
to this. There was the same tendency to work from 
a droning bass rather than from a key-note in our 
sense of the word, the same tendency to subordinate 
the music to the words, causing vague and not 
always balanced flights of intricate melody, the same 
love of ornamental kinks, and the same want of 
absolute definition in the matter of time. 

The instruments most commonly used, besides the 
Sitar and its relative the Vina, are the Manda, a 
horizontal harp somewhat resembling the Tyrolese 
zither ; the Sigara, a small clarinet ; a bamboo 
flageolet, which has a very sweet and mellow tone ; 
the Tabala, a small kettledrum ; and the Tents, a 
four-stringed fiddle played with a bow. This last Is 
a very curious instrument. Beneath the four main 
strings are stretched a number of other fine wires, 
which by their vibration lightly reinforce and sustain 
the notes played. The effect when not played too 
fast is very graceful and clinging, with subtle har- 
monics ; and I have heard some most bewitching 
phrasing on this instrument — a dialogue one might 
say between it and the voice — with accompaniment 



250 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

of the little Tabala. The Tabala itself is very 
charming, with its gurgling and bell-like sounds and 
sudden explosions and chattering accompaniments, 
executed by the fingers and the butt end of the 
hand on two drums simultaneously. The great 
effect of the sitar, whose tone on the whole is thin, 
is undoubtedly the side tension of the strings, which 
gives much expression to it. 

At its best the Indian music seems to me to pro- 
duce a powerful impression — though generally either 
plaintive or frenzied. On the deep background of 
the drone are wrought these (Wagnerian) phrases, 
which are perfectly fluent and variable according to 
the subject conveyed, which are extraordinarily subtle 
in expression, and which generally rise in intensity 
and complexity as the piece progresses, till the 
hearers are worked into a state of cumulated excite- 
ment. When there are several instruments and 
voices thus figuring together over the same bass, the 
effect is fine. The little tambours with their gurg- 
linor notes record the time in a kind of unconscious 
way and keep the musicians together. The big 
drums and the lower strings of the vina give the 
required basses, the taiis and sitars and voices fly 
up and down in delightful intricacy, quarter notes 
touched here and there create a plaintive discord, 
and even the slur judiciously used adds a weird 
effect as of the wind in the forest. 

When not at its very best however it is certainly 
(to me) damnably rambling, monotonous and weari- 
some — notwithstanding chromatic effects of admitted 
elegance and occasional passages of great tender- 
ness. What the music most seems to want is 



MADRAS AND CALCUTTA. 25 1 

distinct form and contrast, and the ruder rockier 
elements — nor is their time-system sufficiently de- 
veloped to allow change of accent in successive bars, 
etc. They all say however that the art is not culti- 
vated to-day, and indeed is greatly decadent and to 
some extent actually lost. Like all branches of learn- 
ing in India, and the caste-system itself, it has been 
subject to intense pedantry and formalism, and has 
become nearly stifled amid the otiose rules which 
cumber it. On the other hand it is interesting to 
find that the Hindus call our music not only mono- 
tonous (as we call theirs, and which may be accounted 
for by mere unfamiliarity — as a town-bred man 
thinks all sheep alike), but also coarse and rude — 
by which I fancy they mean that our intervals are 
all very obvious and commonplace, and the time- 
system rigid — while probably our sequences of har- 
mony are lost upon them. Panna Lall, I find, picks 
up our tunes quite easily ; and seems to like them 
fairly, but always adds a lot of little kinks and 
twanks of his own. 

After all, though the vaguely-floating subtle reci- 
tative style of the Indian music has its drawbacks 
and makes one crave for a little more definition and 
articulateness, it presses upon one as possible that 
our music might gain something by the adoption 
and incorporation of some of these more subtle 
Eastern elements — if only at times, and as an en- 
hancement of our range of expression by contrast 
with our own generic style. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

BENARES. 

The great plains of the Ganges are very Impressive : 
so vast — with a stretch, roughly speaking, of a 
thousand miles, and breadth from 200 to 300 miles — 
so populous,^ yet with such an ancient world-old 
village life ; and dominated always by these tremen- 
dous powers of sun and sky. All the way from 
Calcutta to Delhi (and beyond) this Immense plain, 
absolutely flat, spreads in every direction, as far as 
eye can see the same, dotted park-like with trees 
(mangos many of them), which thickening here and 
there into a clump of palmyra palms indicate the 
presence of a village. The long stretches of bare 
land with hardly a blade of grass, shimmering in 
the noonday heat ; oases of barley and dhol (a shrub- 
like lentil) looking green at this time of year, but 
soon to be reaped and stowed away ; patches of 
potatos, castor-oil plant, poppy in white flower, 
small guava trees, indigo, etc. ; here and there a 
muddy pool or irrigation channel ; a herd of slow 
ungainly buffalos or the more elegant humped 
cows, browsing miraculously on invisible herbage ; 
a woman following them, barefoot and barehead, 
singing a sad-toned refrain, picking up the precious 

1 With an average density of population of 500 per square 
mile, or nearly double that of the United Kingdom ! 



BENARES. 253 



dung (for fuel) and storing it in a basket; long 
expanses of mere sand with a few scrubby trees, 
brown crop-lands without a crop, straggling natural 
roads or tracks going to the horizon — not a hedge 
for hundreds of miles — strings of peasants passing 
from distant village to village, donkeys laden with 
produce, and now and then a great solid-wheeled 
cart labouring and creaking by over the unbroken 
land. The villages themselves are mostly mere 
collections of mud huts, looking when partially 
broken down very like anthills ; and some villages 
are surrounded by rude mud walls dating from 
older and less settled times, and having a very 
primitive appearance. The people on the whole 
(after Southern India) look rather dirty in their 
unbleached cotton, but here and there one meets 
with bright colors and animated scenes. 

Here are two peasants drawing water all day from 
the well to irrigate their rice-field ; one guides the 
bucket down to the water, the other runs out on the 
long lever arm of a horizontal pole — holding on to 
the branches of a neighboring tree as he does so — 
and so brings the bucket up again. And thus they 
continue from earliest dawn to latest dusk, with a 
few hours' rest at midday. 

Here is one watering his fields by hand, carrying 
pots and emptying them over the thirsty plants — a 
fearful toil ! 

Here again is the classical picture — the two mild- 
eyed cows harnessed at the well mouth. The rope 
passes over a pulley and draws up a huge skin full 
of water as the cows recede from the well ; then, as 
they remount the slight slope, the skin again falls 



2 54 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPIIANTA. 

to the water. To and fro go the cows ; one man 
guides them, another empties the skins into the 
water channel ; and so day-long the work continues. 

But out on the great plain you may go for hundreds 
of miles, and mark but little change or variation. 
Flocks of green parrots, or of pigeons, fly by, or 
lesser birds ; kites perpetually wheel and float over- 
head ; occasionally you may see an antelope or two 
among the wilder scrub, or a peahen and her little 
family ; the great cloudless blue (though not by any 
means always cloudless) arches over to the com- 
plete circle of the horizon, the whole land trembles 
in the heat, a light breeze shivers and whispers in 
the foliage, the sun burns down, and silence (except 
for the occasional chatter of the parrots or the 
plaintive song of the peasant) reigns over the vast 
demesne. 

In many of these villages the face of a white man 
is seldom or never seen. Even such centres as 
Allahabad are mere specks in an ocean ; the railway 
is a slender line of civihsation whose influence 
hardly extends beyond the sound of the locomotive 
whistle ; over the northern borders of the plain the 
great snows of the Himalayas dawn into sight and 
fade away again mornings and evenings, and through 
its midst wind the slow broad-bosomed waters of 
the sacred Ganges. 

Over all this region, when night comes, floats 
a sense of unspeakable relief. The spirit — com- 
pressed during the day in painful self-defence against 
the burning sun above and the blinding glare be- 
low — expands in grateful joy. A faint odor is 
wafted from the reviving herbage. The flat earth — 



BENARES. 255 

which was a mere horizon Hne in the midday Hght 
— now fades Into nothingness ; the Immense and 
mystic sky, hanging over on every side Hke a veil, 
opens back Into myriads and myriads of stars — and 
It requires but Httle imagination to think that this 
planet Is only an atom in the vast dome of heaven. 
To the Hindu, Life Is that blinding sun, that fever 
of desire and discomfort, and night Is the blessed 
escape, the liberation of the spirit — its grateful 
passage into Nirwana and the universal. 

One understands (or thinks one does) how these 
Immense plains have contributed to the speculative 
character of the Hindu mind. Mountains and 
broken ground call out energy and invention, but 
here there Is no call upon one to leave the place 
where one is, or to change one's habits of life, for 
the adjoining hundreds of miles present nothing 
new. Custom undisturbed consolidates itself; so- 
ciety crystallises Into caste. The problem of ex- 
ternal life once solved presents no more Interest, 
and mechanical Invention slumbers ; the mind retires 
inward to meditate and to conquer. Hence two 
developments — in the best types that of the trans- 
cendental faculties, but in the worst mere outer 
sluggishness and lethargy. The great idea of In- 
difference belongs to these flat lands — in Its highest 
form one of the most precious possessions of the 
human soul, in Its lowest nothing better than apathy. 
The peasant too in these plains has for several 
months nothing to do. He sows his crop, waters 
it, and reaps It ; works hard, and In a few months 
the rich land rewards him with a year s subsistence ; 
but he can do no more ; the hot weather comes, and 



256 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

the green things are burnt up ; agriculture ceases, 
and there remains nothing but to worship the gods. 
Hence from February to the end of May is the 
great time for rehgious festivals, marriages, and 
ceremonies and frolics of all kinds. 

That the Ganges should be sacred, and even an 
object of worship, is easily intelligible — not only on 
account of its fertilising beneficence to the land, but 
there Is something impressive In Its very appear- 
ance : Its absolute tranquillity and oceanic character 
as It flows, from half a mile to a mile wide, slowly, 
almost Imperceptibly, onward through the vast hot 
plain. The water is greenish, not too clear, charged 
even in the lower portions of Its course with the 
fine mud brought from the mountains ; the banks 
are formed by sandy flats or low cliffs cut In the 
alluvial soil. As you stand by the water's edge 
you sometimes in the straighter reaches catch that 
effect^ — which belongs to such rivers In flat countries 
— of flowing broad and tranquil up to and over the 
very horizon — an efl"ect which Is much Increased by 
the shimmer of heat over the surface. 

In the Mahabharata Siva Is god of the Himalaya 
range — or rather he is the Himalayas — its icy crags 
his brow, its forests his hair. Ganga, the beautiful 
Ganga, could not descend to earth till Siva con- 
sented to receive her upon his head. So Impetuously 
then did she rush down (In rain) that the god grew 
angry and locked up her floods amid his labyrinthine 
hair — till at last he let them escape and find their 
way to the plains. The worship of Siva Is very 
old — was there perhaps when the ancestors of the 
Brahmans first found their way into these plains — 



BENARES. 257 

though we do not hear of It till about 300 B.C. — 
one of those far-back Nature worships in which the 
phenomena of earth and sky are so strangely and 
poetically Interwoven with the deepest Intimations 
of the human soul. 

On the banks of the Ganges, in the midst of the 
great plain, stands Benares, one of the most ancient 
cities of India, and the most sacred resort of 
Northern Hinduism. Hither come pilgrims by the 
hundred and the thousand all the year round, to 
bathe In the Ganges, to burn the bodies of their 
friends or cast their ashes In the stream, and to 
make their offerings at the 5,000 shrines which are 
said to exist In the city. Outside the town along 
the river-side and In open spots may be seen the 
tents of pilgrims, and camels tethered. The city 
Itself stands on the slightest rising ground — hardly 
to be called a hill — and the river banks, here higher 
than usual, are broken and built Into innumerable 
terraces, stairs, temples, and shrines. The scene 
Is exceedingly picturesque, especially as seen from 
the river ; and though taken In detail the city 
contains little that Is effective In the way of archi- 
tecture — the shrines and temples being mostly quite 
small, the streets narrow, and the area of the place 
circumscribed considering Its large population — yet 
It Is the most characteristic and Interesting town of 
India that I have hitherto seen. 

The English make no show here — there are no 
residents, no hotels — the English quarter is four 
miles off, the names of the streets are not written 
in English characters, and you hardly see a shop 
sign in the same. And I must say the result of all 

s 



258 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

this is very favorable. The sense of organic Hfe 
that you immediately experience is very marked in 
contrast to a mongrel city like Calcutta. As you 
thread the narrow alleys, along which no vehicle 
can pass, with houses three or four storeys high 
forming a close lane above you, balconies and upper 
floors projecting in picturesque confusion not unlike 
the old Italian towns, you feel that the vari-colored 
crowd through which you elbow your way is ani- 
mated by its own distinct standards and ideals, A 
manifold ancient industry little disturbed by modern 
invention is going on in the tiny shops on either 
hand — workshops and saleshops in one. Here is 
a street full of brass-workers. The elegant brass 
pots which the whole population uses — for holding 
or carrying water or oil, for pouring water over the 
head in bathing, for offering libations in the temples, 
and so forth — and which form such a feature of 
Indian folk-life — are here being made, from minia- 
ture sizes up to huge vessels holding several gal- 
lons. Then there are little brass images, saucers to 
carry flowers in, and other fancy ware of the same 
kind. 

Another street is full of sandal and leather 
workers ; another of sweetmeat or sweet-cake con- 
fectioners ; another is given to the sale of woollen 
and cotton wraps — which are mostly commercial 
products of the West ; stone and marble effigies, 
and gems, form another branch of industry ; and 
cookshops — innocent fortunately of the smell of 
meat — of course abound. There are many fine 
faces, both old and young, but especially old — grave 
peaceful penetrative faces — and among the better 



BENARES. 259 

types of young men some composed, affectionate, 
and even spiritual faces — withal plenty of mere 
greed and greasy worldliness. 

Niched among these alleys are the numerous 
shrines and temples already mentioned — some a 
mere image of Vishnu or Siva, with a lingam in 
front of it, some little enclosures with several 
shrines — the so-called Golden Temple itself only a 
small affair, with one or two roofs plated with gold. 
In many of the temples brahman cows wander loose, 
quite tame, nosing against the worshipers, who 
often feed them ; and the smell of litter and cow- 
dung mingles with that of frankincense and camphor. ' 
Vulture-eyed Brahmans are on the alert round the 
more frequented sanctuaries, and streams of pilgrims 
and devotees go to and fro. 

The river-side is certainly a wonderful scene. A 
mere wilderness of steps, stairs, terraces and jutting 
platforms, more or less in disorder and decay, 
stretching for a mile or more by the water. 
Flights of a hundred steps going up to small 
temples or to handsome-fronted but decayed palaces, 
or to the Mosque of Aurungzebe, whose two tall 
red-sandstone minarets (notwithstanding the incon- 
gruity) are the most conspicuous objects in this 
sacred metropolis of Hinduism ; the steps covered 
with motley groups going down to or coming 
up from the water — here an old man, a wanderer 
perhaps from some distant region, sitting perched 
by himself, his knees drawn up to his chin, medi- 
tating ; there another singing hymns ; groups under 
awnings or great fixed straw umbrellas, chatting, 
or listening to stories and recitations ; here a string 




26o 



BENARES. 261 

of pilgrims with baskets containing their scanty 
bedding, etc., on their heads, just emerging from 
one of the narrow alleys ; there on a balcony 
attached to a big building appear half a dozen young 
men, stripped, and with Indian clubs in their hands 
— their yellow and brown bodies shining in the early 
sun ; they are students at some kind of native 
seminary and are going through their morning 
exercises ; here are men selling flowers (marigolds) 
for the bathers to cast into the w^ater ; here is a 
yogi squatted, surrounded by a little circle of ad- 
mirers ; there are boats and a quay and stacks of 
wood landed, for burning bodies ; and there beyond, 
a burning ghaut. 

One morning Panna Lall — who had come on with 
me from Calcutta — wanted to bathe at a particular 
ghaut (as each family or caste has its special sanctu- 
aries), so we went off early to the river- side. He 
looked quite jaunty in his yellow silk coat with 
white nether garment and an embroidered cap on 
his head. As it happened, a spring festival was 
being celebrated, and everybody was in clean rai- 
ment and bright colors, yellow being preferred. 
As we approached the river the alleys began to get 
full of people coming up after their baths to the 
various temples — pretty to see the women in all 
shades of tawny gold, primrose, saffron, or salmon- 
pink, bearing their brass bowls and saucers full of 
flowers, and a supply of Ganges water. 

The ghauts were thronged. Wandering along 
them we presently came upon 2. yogi sitting under 
the shade of a wall — a rather fine-looking man of 
thirty-five, or nearing forty, with a kindly unself- 



2 62 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

conscious face — not at all thin or emaciated or 
ascetic looking, but a wild man decidedly, with his 
hair long and matted Into a few close ringlets, black 
but turning brown towards his waist, a short un- 
kempt beard, and nothing whatever on but some 
beads round his neck and the merest apology for a 
loin-cloth. He sat cross-legged before a log or two 
forming a small fire, which seemed grateful as the 
morning was quite cold, and every now and then 
smeared his body with the wood-ashes, giving it a 
white and floury appearance. For the rest his 
furniture was even less than Thoreau's, and con- 
sisted apparently of only one or two logs of fire- 
wood kept in reserve, a pair of tongs, and a dry 
palm-leaf overhead to ward off the sun by day and 
the dews by night. I looked at him for some time, 
and he looked at me quietly In return — so I went 
and sat down near him, joining the circle of his 
admirers of whom there were four or five. He 
seemed pleased at this little attention and told me 
In reply to my questions that he had lived like this 
since he was a boy, and that he was very happy — 
which indeed he appeared to be. As to eating he 
said he ate plenty '* when it came to him " {i.e. when 
given to him), and when it didn't he could go without. 
I should imagine however from his appearance that 
he did pretty well in that matter — though I don't 
think the end of his remark was mere brag ; for 
there was that look of insouciance in his face which 
one detects in the faces of the animals^ His friends 
sat round, but without much communication — at any 
rate while I was there — except to offer him a whiff 
out of their pipes every now and then, or drop a 



BENARES. 263 

casual remark, to which he would respond with a 
quite natural and pleasant laugh. Of any conscious 
religion or philosophy I don't think there was a 
spark In him — simply wlldness, and reversion to a 
life without one vestige of care ; but I felt In look- 
ing at him that rare pleasure which one experiences 
In looking at a face without anxiety and without 
cunnino-. 

A little farther on we came to one of the burning 
ghauts — a sufficiently dismal sight — a blackened 
hollow running down to the water's edge, with room 
for three funereal pyres in It. The evening before 
we had seen two of these burning — though nearly 
burnt out — and this morning the ashes only re- 
mained, and a third fresh stack was already pre- 
pared. As we stood there a corpse was brought 
down — wrapped in an unbleached cloth (probably 
the same it wore In life) and slung beneath a pole 
which was carried on the shoulders of two men. 
Round about on the jutting verges of the hollow 
the male relatives (as we had seen them also the 
day before) sat perched upon their heels, with their 
cloths drawn over their heads — spectators of the 
whole operations. I could not help wondering 
what sort of thoughts were theirs. Here there is 
no disguise of death and dissolution. The body Is 
placed upon the pyre, which generally in the case 
of the poor people who come here Is insufficiently 
large, a scanty supply of gums and fragrant oils is 
provided, the nearest male relative applies the 
torch himself — and then there remains nothing but 
to sit for hours and watch the dread process, and at 
the conclusion if the burning is complete to collect 



264 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

the ashes and scatter them on the water, and if not 
to throw the charred remains themselves into the 
sacred river. The endurance of the Hindu is 
proverbial — but to endure such a sight in the case 
of a dear and near relative seems ultra-human. 
Every sense is violated and sickened ; the burn- 
ing-ground men themselves are the most abhorred 
of outcasts — and as they pass to and fro on their 
avocations the crowd shrinks back from the defile- 
ment of their touch. 

We did not stay more than a few minutes here, 
but passed on and immediately found ourselves 
again amongst an animated and gay crowd of wor- 
shipers. This was the ghaut where Panna wished 
to bathe — a fine pyramidal flight of stairs jutting 
into the water and leading up to the Durga Temple 
some way above us. While he was making pre- 
parations — purchasing flowers, oil, etc. — I sat down 
in the most retired spot I could find, under an 
awning, where my presence was not likely to 
attract attention, and became a quiet spectator of 
the scene. 

After all, there is nothing like custom. One 
might think that in order to induce people to bathe 
by thousands in muddy half-stagnant water, thick 
with funeral ashes and drowned flowers, and here 
and there defiled by a corpse or a portion of one, 
there must be present an immense amount of reli- 
gious or other fervor. But nothing of the kind. 
Except in a few, very few, cases there was no more 
of this than there is in the crowd going to or from 
a popular London church on Sunday evening. 
Mere blind habit was written on most faces. 



BENARES. 265 

There were the country bumpkins, who gazed about 
them a bit, and the habituds of the place ; there 
were plenty with an eye to business, and plenty as 
innocent as children ; but that it was necessary for 
some reason or other to bathe in this water was a 
thing that it clearly did not enter into any one's 
head to doubt. It simply had to be done. 

The coldness of the morning air' was forced on 
my attention by a group of women coming up, 
dripping and shivering, out of the river and taking 
their stand close to me. Their long cotton cloths 
clung to their limbs, and I wondered how they 
would dress themselves under these conditions. 
The steps even were reeking wdth wet and mud, 
and could not be used for sitting on. They 
managed however to unwind their wet things and 
at the same time to put on the dry ones so deftly 
that in a short time and without any exposure of 
their bodies they were habited in clean and bright 
attire. Children in their best clothes, stepping 
down one foot always first, with silver toe-rings and 
bangles, were a pretty sight ; and aged people of 
both sexes, bent and tottering, came past pretty fre- 
quently ; around on the various levels were groups 
of gossipers, and parties squatting opposite each 
other, shaving and being shaved. Nearly opposite 
to me was one of the frequent stone lingams which 
abound here at corners of streets and in all sorts of 
nooks, and I was amused by the antics of a goat 
and a crow, which betw^een them nibbled and nicked 
off the flowers, ears of barley, and other offerings, 
as fast as the pious deposited them thereon. 

While I was taking note of these and^ other 



266 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

features of the scene, my attention was suddenly 
arrested by a figure standing just in front of me, 
and I found that I was looking at one of those 
self-mutilating fakirs of whom every one has heard. 
He was a man of a little over thirty perhaps, clothed 
in a yellow garment — not very tall though of good 
figure ; but his left arm was uplifted in life-long 
penance. There was no doubt about it ; the bare 
limb, to some extent dwindled, went straight up 
from the shoulder and ended in a little hand, which 
looked like the hand of a child — with fingers inbent 
and ending in long claw-like nails, while the thumb, 
which was comparatively large in proportion to the 
fingers, went straight up between the second and 
third. The man's face was smeared all over with 
a yellow pigment (saffron), and this together with 
his matted hair gave him a wild and demonish 
appearance. 

One often reads of such things, yet somehow 
without quite realising them ; certainly the sight of 
this deliberate and lifelong mutilation of the human 
body gave me a painful feeling — which was by no 
means removed by the expression of the face, with 
its stultified sadness, and brutishness not without 
deceit. His extended right hand demanded a coin, 
which I gladly gave him, and after invoking some 
kind of blessing he turned away through the crowd 
— his poor dwindled hand and half-closed fingers 
visible for some time over the heads of the people. 
Poor fellow ! how little spiritual good his sufferings 
had done him. His heavy-browed face haunted me 
for some time. For the rest he was well-liking 
enough, and it must be said that these fellows for the 



BENARES. 267 

most part make a fair living out of the pious charity 
of the people, though I would not be understood to 
say that all of them adopt this mode of life with 
that object. 

When Panna came up out of the water and had 
dressed himself, and I had satisfied the curiosity of 
one or two bystanders who wanted to know whether 
I had come with him all the way on this pilgrimage 
out of friendship, we went up to the temple above — 
where a little band was playing strange and grisly 
music, and a few devotees were chanting before 
an Image of Siva — and having made an offering 
returned to our hotel. 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE ANGLO-INDIAN AND THE OYSTER. 

Allahabad. — It certainly is a very difficult thing to 
see the real India, the real life of the people. You 
arrive at a railway station, give the name of a hotel, 
and are driven there. When you wake up in the 
morning you find yourself in a region of straight 
shady avenues, villa residences, hotels and churches, 
lawn-tennis and whisky pegs. Except that the 
residences are houses of one storey instead of three, 
and that the sun is rather glaring for February, you 
might just as well be at Wandsworth or Kew. In 
some alarm you ask for the native city and find 
that it is four miles off! You cannot possibly walk 
there along the dusty roads, and there is nothing for 
it but to drive. If there is anything of the nature 
of a " sight " in the city you are of course beset by 
drivers ; in any case you ultimately have to under- 
go the ignominy of being jogged through the town 
in a two-horse conveyance, stared at by the people, 
followed by guides, pestered for bakshish, and are 
glad to get back to the shelter of your hotel. 

If you go and stay with your Anglo-Indian friend 
in his villa-bungalow, you are only a shade worse 
off instead of better. He is hospitality itself and 
will introduce you cordially to all the other good 
folk, whom (and their ways) you have seen more 

268 



THE ANGLO-INDIAN AND THE OYSTER. 269 

than once before at Wandsworth and at Kew ; but 
as to the people of the country, why, you are no 
nearer them physically, and morally you are farther 
off because you are in the* midst of a society where 
it is the correct thing to damn the oyster, and all 
that is connected with him. 

The more one sees of the world the more one is 
impressed, I think, by the profundity and the im- 
passibility of the gulf of race-difference. Two races 
may touch, may mingle, may occupy for a time the 
same land ; they may recognise each other's excel- 
lencies, may admire and imitate each other ; indi- 
viduals may even cross the dividing line and be 
absorbed on either side ; but ultimately the gulf re- 
asserts itself, the deepset difference makes itself felt, 
and for reasons which neither party very clearly 
understands they cease to tolerate each other. They 
separate, like oil and water; or break into flame and 
fierce conflict ; or the one perishes withering from 
the touch of the other. There are a few souls, born 
travelers and such like, for whom race-barriers do 
not exist, and who are everywhere at home, but 
they are rare. For the world at large the great 
race-divisions are very deep, very insuperable. 
Here is a vast problem. The social problem which 
to-day hangs over the Western lands is a great one ; 
but this looms behind it, even vaster. Anyhow in 
India the barrier is plain enough to be seen — more 
than physical, more than intellectual, more than 
moral — a deepset ineradicable incompatibility. 

Take that difference in the conception of Duty, 
to which I have already alluded. The central core 
of the orthodox Englishman, or at any rate of the 



270 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

public-school boy who ultimately becomes our most 
accepted type, Is perhaps to be found In that word. 
It Is that which makes him the dull, narrow-minded, 
noble, fearless, reliable man that he Is. The moving 
forces of the Hindu are quite different ; they are, 
first, Religion ; and second. Affection ; and It Is 
these which make him so hopelessly unpractical, so 
abominably resigned, yet withal so tender and Im- 
aginative of heart. Abstract duty to the Hindu has 
but little meaning. He may perform his religious 
exercises and his caste Injunctions carefully enough, 
but it Is because he realises clearly the expediency 
of so doing. And what can the Englishman under- 
stand of this man w^ho sits on his haunches at a 
railway station for a whole day meditating on the 
desirability of not being born again ! They do not 
and they cannot understand each other. 

Many of the I.C.S. are very able, disinterested, 
hardworking men, but one feels that they work 
from basic assumptions which are quite alien to the 
Hindu mind, and they can only see with sorrow 
that their work takes no hold upon the people and 
its affections. The materialistic and commercial 
spirit of Western rule can never blend with the pro- 
foundly religious charactet of the social organisation 
normal to India. We undertake the most obviously 
useful w^orks, the administration of justice, the con- 
struction of tanks and railways. In a genuine spirit 
of material expediency and with a genuine anxiety 
to secure a 5 per cent, return; to the Hindu all this 
is as nothing — it does not touch him In the least. 
Unfortunately, since the substitution of mere open 
competition for the remains of noblesse oblige^ which 



THE ANGLO-INDIAN AND THE OYSTER. 271 

survived in the former patronage appointments to 
the I.C.S., and with the general growth of com- 
merciaHsm in England, the commercial character of 
our rule has only increased during the last thirty 
years. There is less belief in justice and honor, 
more in 5 per cent, and expediency — less anxiety to 
understand the people and to govern them well, 
more to make a good income and to retire to Eng- 
land with an affluence at an early date. 

Curious that we have the same problem of race- 
difference still utterly unsolved in the United States. 
After all the ardor of the Abolitionists, the fury of 
civil war, the emancipation of the slaves, the grant- 
ing of the ballot and political equality, and the pro- 
phecies of the enthusiasts of humanity — still remains 
the fact that in the parts where negroes exist in any 
numbers the white man will not even ride in the same 
car with his brother, or drink at the bar where he 
drinks. So long does it take to surpass and over- 
come these dividing lines. We all know that they 
have to be surpassed — we all know that the ultimate 
and common humanity must disentangle itself and 
rise superior to them in the end. The Gfiani knows 
it — it is almost the central fact of his religious philo- 
sophy and practice ; the Western democrat knows it 
— it is also the central fact of his creed. But the 
way to its realisation is long and intricate and be- 
wildering. 

We must not therefore be too ready to find fault 
with the Anglo-Indian if he only (so to speak) 
touches the native with the tongs. He may think, 
doubtless, that he acts so because the oyster is a 
poor despicable creature, quite untrustworthy, in- 



272 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

capable, etc. — all of which may be true enough, only 
we must not forget that the oyster has a correspond- 
ing list of charges against the Anglo — but the real 
truth on both sides is something deeper, something 
deeper perhaps than can easily be expressed — a 
rooted dislike and difference between the two peo- 
ples. Providence, for its own good reasons, seems 
to have put them together for a season in order that 
they may torment each other, and there is nothing 
more to be said. 

And, putting race-difference aside, it is obvious 
that the circumstances of our presence in India 
make any fusion of the two parties very difficult. 
Certainly the spectacle of our domination of this 
vast region is a very remarkable one — something 
romantic, and almost incredible — the conquest and 
subjection of so many tribes and of such diverse 
elements under one political rule and standard, the 
mere handful of foreigners holding the country 
at such a vast distance from home and from their 
base of operations, the patience and pluck with 
which the problem has been worked out, the broad 
and liberal spirit of administration with less of rapine 
than perhaps ever known in such a case before, 
and even an allowance and tenderness for native 
customs and institutions which are especially re- 
markable considering the insular habits of the con- 
querors — all this makes one feel how wonderful 
an achievement the thing has been. But as far 
as intercourse between the two peoples goes, the 
result has been inevitable. We came to India as 
conquerors, we remain there as a ruling caste. There 
is a gulf to begin with ; how can it be bridged over ? 



THE ANGLO-INDIAN AND THE OYSTER. 273 

A young man at the age of twenty-two or twenty- 
three comes out to join the official ranks. He finds 
two societies existing, quite sundered from each 
other. He cannot belong to both. He may have 
the most cosmopoHtan ideas ; he might even prefer 
to associate with the subject race, but that would be 
obviously impossible ; he must join his own people 
— which means the use of the tongs when a native 
gentleman calls. As a mere lad, even though of 
strong character, it is impossible for him to with- 
stand the tremendous pressure which the Anglos 
will bring to bear on him. When he is forty, he 
will have accommodated his views to his position. 
Thus the gulf remains as wide as ever. 

Then the people themselves are the conquered, 
and they have learned their lesson only too well. 
Walking through an Indian city is as bad as walk- 
ing through a Devonshire parish, where the parson 
and the squire have done their deadly work, and the 
school-children curtsey to you and the farm-laborer 
pulls his forelock and calls you " Sir," if you only 
ask the way. I have walked alone through a 
crowded city in this part of India for two or three 
hours without seeing a single white face — one among 
scores of thousands — and the people officiously 
pushing each other out of the way to make room 
for me, the native police and soldiers saluting and 
shouldering arms as one went by, and if one chanced 
to look too straight at a man he covered his face 
with his hands and bowed low to the ground ! This 
does not happen fortunately in the great centres 
like Bombay and Calcutta, but it does in some of 
the up-country cities ; and it is a strange experience, 

T 



2 74 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

impressing one no doubt with a sense of the power 
of the Httle mother-country ten thousand miles away, 
which throws its prestige around one — but impress- 
ing one also with a sinister sense of the gulf between 
man and man which that prestige has created. It 
may be imagined that a long course of this kind of 
thing soon convinces the average Anglo- Indian that 
he really does belong to a superior order of being — 
reacting on him just as the curtseys and forelock- 
pulling react on the class-infatuation of squire and 
parson — and so the gulf gets wider instead of les- 
sening. 

At dinner last night I met a dozen or so of the 
chief officials here, and thought them a capable, in- 
telligent and good-hearted lot — steeped of course in 
their particular English class-tradition, but of their 
class as good a sample as one could expect to meet. 
Talking with a Bengali gentleman who was present 
— one of the numerous Bannerji clan — he reiterated 
the usual complaint. "The official people," he said, 
" are very good as long as the governed submit and 
say nothing ; but they will neither discuss matters 
with individual natives nor recognise the great social 
movement (National Congress, etc.) that is going on. 
Their methods In fact are those of a hundred years 
ago." " It is a great pity," he continued, ''because 
In a few years the growing movement will insist on 
recognition, and then if that leads to altercation and 
division the future will be lost, both for the English 
and the native. The people of India are most 
friendly to the Government, and if the official classes 
would stretch out a hand, and give and take so to 
speak, they would be loyal to death." 



THE ANGLO-INDIAN AND THE OYSTER. 275 

With these last expressions I am much inclined 
to agree, for having talked with oysters of all classes 
on this subject — from the lowest to the highest — I 
have always found but one sentiment, that of satis- 
faction with the stability and security which our rule 
has brought to the country at large — not of course 
without serious criticisms of our policy, but with the 
general conviction, quite spontaneously expressed, 
that a change of government — as to that of Russia — 
or even a return to the divided rule of native princes, 
would be a decided change for the worse. While 
however thus gladly and unasked expressing their 
loyalty, my interlocutors have (I think in every case) 
qualified their remarks by expressing their dissatis- 
faction at the personal treatment they receive from 
the English. As one friend mildly expressed it, 
"The English official calls upon you, and you of 
course take care to return his call ; but he takes 
care to confine the conversation to the weather and 
similar topics, and makes you feel that it is a relief 
when the visit is over, and so there is not much 
cordiality." 

No doubt as rulers of the country and inheriting, 
as I have said, a tradition of aloofness and superiority 
over the ruled, it is difficult for our Anglo-Indian 
folk to act otherwise than they do. Some of them 
I think feel really grieved at the estrangement. 
One of the officials here said to me in quite a pathetic 
tone, " There is a gulf between us and the people 
which it is very difficult to bridge." The native 
gentleman on the other hand is, very naturally, 
extremely sensitive about his dignity, and not in- 
clined — under such conditions — to make advances ; 



276 FROM ADAM's peak TO ELEPHANTA. 

or, if not sensitive, tends in some cases to be a toady 
for his own ends ; in either case further estrange- 
ment results. If the English are to keep India 
together (supposing that really is a useful object) 
they must rttle no doubt, and with a firm hand. At 
the same time the rapidly growing public opinion 
beneath the surface has to be recognised, and will 
have to be recognised even more in the future. I 
myself am inclined to think that timidity has a good 
deal to do with the policy of the English to-day. 
Conscious that they are not touching the people's 
hearts, and cut'] off from them so as to be unable 
to fathom rightly what is going on in their minds, 
they magnify the perils of their own position, and 
entrenching themselves in further isolation and ex- 
clusiveness, by so doing create the very danger that 
they would avoid. 

Aligurh. — -This place affords a striking example 
of a rapprochement taking place between the rulers 
and the ruled. It is the only place in India which 
I have visited where I have noticed anything like 
a cordial feeling existing between the two sections ; 
and this is due to the presence here of the Mahome- 
dan Anglo- Oriental College, run by Englishmen 
whose instincts and convictions lie a little outside 
the Anglo-Indian groove. And the fact shows how 
much might be done by even a few such men scat- 
tered over India. Our friends Theodore Beck and 
Harold Cox, both Cambridge men, and the latter 
a decided Socialist in opinion, being connected with 
the college at its first start a few years ago, natu- 
rally made a point of cultivating friendly relations 
not only with the boys but with their parents — 



THE ANGLO-INDIAN AND THE OYSTER. 277 

especially those who might happen to be residing 
in the place. Being also, naturally, on friendly 
terms with the Anglo-Indians and officials of Ali- 
gurh, they (and the college) became a point of con- 
tact between the two sections of the community. 
At cricket matches, prize-givings, supper-parties, 
etc., the good people of both sides met and estab- 
lished comparatively cordial relations with each 
other, which have given, as I say, a quite distinctive 
flavor to the social atmosphere here. 

Last night (Feb. 17th) I came in for a dinner- 
party, given in the college reception-room by one 
of the Mahomedan taluqdars, or landlords, of the 
neighborhood — a little grey timid man with gold- 
braided cap and black coat — somewhat resembling 
the conductor of a German band. Very amusing. 
Gold caps on beaked and bearded faces, and gor- 
geous robes ; speeches in Hindustani by English- 
men, and in English by Mahomedans ; a few Hin- 
dus present, sitting apart so as not to eat at the 
table with us ; healths enthusiastically drunk in tea, 
etc. ! and to crown it all, when the health of the 
Mahomedans and Hindus present was proposed, 
and the English — including officials, collector, and 
all — stood up and sang, '' For they are jolly good 
fellows " — the astonishment of the natives, hardly 
knowing what it all meant and unaccustomed to 
these forms of jollification, was quite touching. 

But the influence of Sir Syed Ahmed here must 
of course not be overlooked. He is the originator 
and founder of the M.A.O. College, and one of the 
leading Mahomedans of India, as well as a confidant 
of the British and of the Government— a man of 



278 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

considerable weight, courage, and knowledge of the 
world, if a little ultra- Mahomedan in some of his 
views and in his contempt of the mild Hindu. He 
was a member of Lord Ripon's Council and opposed 
Lord Ripon with all his might in the matter of the 
proposed system of popular election to Local Boards 
and Municipal Councils. The Mahomedan is poles 
asunder from the modern Radical, and Carlylean in 
his contempt of voting machinery. His fingers still 
itch, even in these degenerate days, to cut the Gor- 
dian knot of politics with the sword. He hates the 
acute and tricky Bengali, whom he cannot follow in 
his acuteness, and whom he disdains to follow in his 
tricks, and cannot away with his National Congress 
and representative reforms. But all this perhaps 
recommends him the more to Anglo-Indian sym- 
pathies. There is something in the Mahomedan, 
with his love of action and dogmatic sense of duty, 
which makes him more akin to the Englishman than 
is the philosophical and supple-minded Hindu. And 
one can easily understand how this race ruled India 
for centuries, and rejoiced In Its rule. 

Yet to-day it seems to be the fact that the 
Mahomedan population is falling into considerable 
poverty, which — according to some opinions — must 
end either in the extinction of their influence or their 
adoption of Western ideas and habits. With the 
advent of commercialism the stiff-necked son of 
Islam finds himself ousted in trade by the supple 
chetty or Brahman. Hence the feud between the 
two races, which to a certain extent in the country 
parts was scarring over with mere lapse of time, 
seems likely now in the more advancing districts 



THE ANGLO-INDIAN AND THE OYSTER. 279 

and commercial centres to break out afresh. "In 
Bundelkhand," says Beck in his Essays on Indian 
Topics, '' where society is very old-fashioned, the 
Rajas are quite Islamized in their customs and 
thoughts ; while in Calcutta, where English influence 
has been longest, the anti-Mahomedan feeling reaches 
its greatest height." That is to say, that in Calcutta 
and such places the English have brought with them 
commercialism and a desire among the Hindus for 
political representation, both of which things have 
only served to enrage the two parties against each 
other — Hindu against Mahomedan, and Mahomedan 
against Hindu. 

When a man of authority and weight could make 
such a jingo speech as that of Sir Syed Ahmed at 
Lucknow in 1887 — w^ho in the extremity of his con- 
tempt for the Hindu said, " We do not live on fish ; 
nor are we afraid of using a knife and fork lest we 
should cut our fingers (cheers). Our nation is of 
the blood of those who made not only Arabia but 
Asia and Europe to tremble. It is our nation which 
conquered with its sword the whole of India, although 
its peoples w^ere all of one religion " — one realises 
how deep-set is the antagonism still existing. 
Though forming a minority, fifty or sixty million 
descendants of a powerful race sharing such senti- 
ments cannot be ignored ; and it is obvious that the 
feud between the two races must for a long period 
yet form one of the great difficulties and problems 
of Indian politics. 

A few years ago the Hindus tied a pig at night- 
time in the. midst of the Jumma Mosque at Delhi, 
where it was found in the morning by the infuriated 



28o FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

Mahomedans. They in retaliation cut up a brah- 
man cow and threw it into a well used by Hindus. 
Street fights and assassinations followed and many 
people were killed — and the affair might have grown 
to a large scale but for the interference of British 
troops. Such little amenities are not infrequent, 
at any rate in certain districts. 

There is a big horse-fair going on here just now. 
A hundred booths or more arranged in four little 
streets in form of a cross, with decorations. All 
round, bare sandy land with horses tied up for sale. 
The Cabulees— great tall men with long hair and 
skin coats, fur inside, and ramshackle leggings and 
shoes — ride in with their strings of horses, 300 or 
400 miles from the frontier — where they are obliged 
to pile their arms until they return, as they would 
play the deuce in the country if they were to bring 
their guns with them. They look tidy ruffians, and 
no doubt would overrun the country if not held back 
by the English or some military power. 

Outside the fair is a wrestling arena, with earth- 
banks thrown up round it, on which a motley crowd 
of spectators was seated to-day. Saw several bouts 
of wrestling. The Aligarh champion's challenge 
was accepted by a big Punjaubee, a fellow from 
Meerut, over sixty years of age, but remarkably 
powerful — burly, w^ith small nose, battered ears, and 
huge frontal prominences like some African chief- 
tain or Western prize-fighter — gopd-humored too 
and even jolly till accused of unfair play, when he 
raged among the mob, and the meeting broke up 
in insane noise and blows of sticks — a small whirl- 



THE ANGLO-INDIAN AND THE OYSTER. 251 

wind of combatants eddying away for some distance 
over the plain. It was characteristic though, that 
when they had had enough of fighting, the two 
parties came back and appealed for fair play to Beck 
and me — the only two Englishmen present — though 
there did not seem the least reason why they should, 
and we were quite unable to afford them any proper 
satisfaction. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

DELHI AND AGRA. 

The train rushes over an iron girder bridge, 
crossing the Jumna, into Delhi. There are sandy 
flats and bits of garden by the river-side, and then 
the great red-sandstone walls of the fort, 30 or 
40 feet high, surmounted by remnants of the old 
white marble palace of Shah Jehan, looking out 
eastward over the great plain. Here are the Pearl 
Mosque — a little pure white shrine — the Shah's 
private audience hall, the zenana apartments, and 
the royal baths, still standing. The women's apart- 
ments are certainly lovely. White and polished 
marble floor and marble walls inlaid with most 
elegant floral and arabesque designs in mosaics of 
colored stones, and in gold ; with marble screens 
of rich lace-like open work between the apartments 
and the outer world ; and a similarly screened 
balcony jutting over the fort wall — through which 
the river and the great plains beyond are seen shim- 
mering in the heat. The private audience hall is 
of like work — a sort of open portico supported on 
some twenty marble columns, with marble floor and 
rich mosaic everywhere (see illustration), and the 
baths the same. Indeed the old Shah with his 
fifty queens must have had some high old times in 

282 



DELHI AND AGRA. 



283 



these baths — one for himself, one for the queens, and 
one for his children, all opening conveniently into 
each other. 

Behind the fort used to be the densest part of 
the city ; but after the Mutiny this was cleared away, 
and now an open space extends from the fort walls 
up to the Jumma Mosque and the present Delhi. 

A large city of narrow alleys and courtyards — 




DEWAN KHAS, OR AUDIENCE HALL, IN PALACE AT DELHI. 

here and there a broad tree-planted avenue with 
disheveled little two-storey houses on each hand, 
and occasional banks, hotels, and offices. Crowds 
of people. A finer-looking race than southwards — 
more of the Mahomedan element — and about the 
Hindus themselves more fling and romance and 
concreteness ; some handsome faces, verging a little 
towards the Greek or Italian types — but looking 
fine with their dark skins. I suppose that in the 



284 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

Punjaub the men are finer and taller still, and look 
down a little on the folk at Delhi. Cows and brah- 
man bulls throng the streets, and come out of 
courtyards in the mid-city. Some of these bulls 
are public property, belong to no individual and 
live on the highways and mingle with the herds of 
cows. When they want food they go into the 
market, and the Hindus feed them with their hands. 

The Jumma Mosque is the first large mosque I 
have seen in India, but I am a little disappointed 
with it. These Indian mosques differ a little from 
the Turkish — being quite open to sun and sky. The 
idea seems to be, first a large open square, 100 feet 
across, or 100 yards, or more, paved with marble 
if possible, with a tank in the middle for wor- 
shipers to wash their feet in, and an arcade round 
three sides, very likely open-work of stone, with 
fine gateways in each side — and on the fourth 
side a sort of very handsome portico, with its 
floor raised above the general court, and surmounted 
by three domes. Right and left of the portico stand 
the two tall minarets. To be perfect the whole 
should be of white polished marble inlaid with 
arabesques and scriptures from the Koran. One of 
the main points is the absolute purity of the place. 
There is nothing whatever under the portico — no 
likeness of beast or bird — only three recesses in which 
one might fairly expect to see an altar or an image, 
a flight of three steps on which the reader stands to 
read the Koran, and that is all. Attendants con- 
tinually dust the w^hole courtyard with cloths to 
keep it clean. 

From a distance the effect of the domes, the min- 



DELHI AND AGRA. 



285 



arets, the open-work of the arcade, the handsome 
gateways, and the Httle kiosks Is very attractive ; 
but within one misses something. It seems as If the 
portico ought to open back on a vast Interior ; but 
It doesn't. There Is no mysterious gloom anywhere 
— not a cranny for a hobgobHn even. There is no 
nice Virgin Mary In the niches, or nasty gurgoyle 
on the angles, no meditative Buddha or terrifying 
Kali with necklace of skulls, no suggestion of com- 




THE JUMMA MOSQUE, DELHI. 

panlonshlp human or divine, no appeal to sense. It 
doesn't give one a chance of even having a make- 
believe god. How different from Hinduism with 
Its lingams and sexual symbols deified In the pro- 
found gloom of the temple's Innermost recess 1 

What an extraordinary region Is this to the south 
and west of Delhi — a huge waste sprinkled with the 
ruins of six or seven previous Delhls ! Emperors 
in those days had a cheerful way — when they 



260 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

thought they had found a securer or more conveni- 
ent site — of calmly removing a whole city from its 
old location. Now you pass through an arid land, 
here and there green with crops, but running up 
into stony ridges and mounds, and dotted with ruins 
as far as the eye can see. Stumpy domes of de- 
cayed mosques in every direction looming against 
the sky, mere lumps of brickwork, now turned into 
barns and farmyards, or with herds of goats shelter- 
ing from the sun beneath their arches — the land in 
some parts fairly covered with loose stones, remnants 
of countless buildings. Here and there, among 
some foliage, you see a great mosque tomb in better 
preservation — kept up by the Government — that of 
Safdar Jung, for instance, who died 1753, Akbar's 
Vizier, or of the Emperor Humayoun, or the marble 
shrine of the poet Khusro. Along the roads go 
bullock-carts of all kinds, some with curtains to 
them, concealing women folk ; and camels with 
loads of grass, and donkeys with huge panniers of 
cow-dung ; and by the wayside are ash trees and 
peepul trees, and wells worked by brahman cows 
drawing up water in huge skins. 

Eleven miles south of Delhi stands the great 
Kutab Minar, a huge tower 240 feet high and 50 
feet diameter at its base — tapering through five 
storeys to its summit, which unfortunately has lost 
its four-columned watch-turret and has only now a 
wretched iron rail — a kind of multiple column break- 
ing out into a sort of scroll-work capital at each 
landing — not very beautiful, but impressive in its 
lonely vastness. The twin column or minar — 
hardly to be called minaret — was never finished ; its 



DELHI AND AGRA. 287 

base alone stands to a height of 40 or 50 feet. 
Between them He the remains of a handsome 
mosque, and within the courtyard of the mosque the 
columned arcades of an ancient Hindu temple; 
while the whole group stands within the lines of 
the old Hindu fortress of Lalkab built about a.d. 
1060. The mosque and minarwere built by Kutab- 
ud-din about 1200 a.d. ; but the Hindu temple is 
no doubt considerably older. Within the latter 
stands the celebrated iron pillar (22 feet high above 
ground — and said to be an equal depth below the 
surface — by 16 inches diameter at base) — whose 
construction at that early date is somewhat of a 
puzzle. It evidently is not a casting, but hammered. 
It is of pure iron, and was probably, I should say, 
welded to these huge dimensions piece by piece. 
A Sanskrit inscription on it, recording a victory 
over the Bahllkas near the seven mouths of the 
Indus, fixes its date at a.d. 360 — 400. 

This huge Kutab MInar Is supposed to have been 
built as a kind of glorification of the triumph of 
Mahomedanism over Hinduism ; but now from its 
top one looks out over a strange record of arid lands 
and deserted cities — both Mahomedan and Hindu — 
fortified places built one after another in succession 
and razed to the ground or deserted. The circles 
of their old walls are still however mostly traceable. 
One of these, which was called Toglakabad, and was 
destroyed by Tamerlane in 1398, lies to the south- 
east. Another, which the English call the old Fort, 
and which lies nearer Delhi, I visited on my way 
back to the city. Like most of the villages it stands 
on an eminence composed of the debris of former 



288 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

habitations. The walls, 40 feet high, of this little 
fortress, whose irregular sides are none of them 
probably much more than a quarter of a mile in 
length, are very rude but bold stonework, and com- 
mand a dry ditch. Within there are now only a 
hundred or so mud huts, and a red-sandstone 
mosque of rather good appearance — from the terrace 
of which you look out over the Jumna and see the 
minarets of the present city only three or four miles 
off. Owing however to the dust flying in the air 
the views were by no means very clear. 

j4gra. — The fort here is quite on the same lines 
as that at Delhi, but of earlier date — built by Akbar 
in 1566 or so — and even finer in conception. There 
is indeed something very grand about this bold 
stern and practical Mahomedan structure with its 
lofty seventy-foot walls and solid gateway of red 
sandstone, surmounted by the glitter of the marble 
and gilt- roofed domes and arcades and terraces 
which formed the royal palace within. All these 
buildings of the royal palace, like the Taj and other 
monuments, are now kept and repaired by the Brit- 
ish Government, and with tender care, and are open 
for visitors to walk through at their own sweet will 
— subject to the trivial importunities of a few guides. 
One may wander for a whole day through the many 
courts of the palace at Agra and keep finding fresh 
beauties and interest. After one guide has been 
exhausted and paid off the others leave one respect- 
fully alone, and one may sit down in the lovely ar- 
cade of the Dewan Khas, or in the canopied balcony 
called the Jessamine Tower, and enjoy the shade 
and coolness of the marble, or the sight of the 



DELHI AND AGRA. 2 59 

brilliant landscape between the arches — the river 
banks and the busy folk washing themselves and 
their linen — or study the beautiful floral mosaics 
upon walls and columns, at one's leisure. 

In marble and mosaic It is impossible to imagine 
anything more elegant than the Mahomedan work 
of this period — as illustrated by numbers of buildings 




PERFORATED MARBLE SCREEN IN PALACE AT DELHI. 

— the brilliant coloring and richness of inlaid stone 
in coral, agate, jade, bloodstone, turquoise, lapis- 
lazull, or what not ; the grace of running leaf and 
flower ; the marble reliefs — whole plants— in panels, 
the lily or the tulip or the oleander conventional- 
ised — one of the most beautiful in the Dewan Khas 
being a design of the tomato plant ; and then the 
inimitable open-work screens (often out of one great 

u 



290 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

slab of Stone) — of intricately balanced yet trans- 
parently simple designs — some in the zenana apart- 
ments here almost as elaborate as lacework ; and 
the care and finish with which they have all been 
wrought and fitted. It was from this fort and 
among these arcades and balconies that 500 English 
during the early days of the Mutiny watched the 
clouds- of flame and smoke going up from their 
burning homes. 

Here at Agra I find myself as usual at least an 
hour's walk from the native city, measuring by mile- 
stones — but how far I am from any possibility of 
converse with the people there, considering that I 
cannot speak their language, that they bow to the 
ground if I only look at them, and that my view of 
noblesse oblige as a Britisher should forbid my associ- 
ating freely with them, is more than I can calculate. 
To go and see the Taj Mehul is easy enough ; but 
to explore what lies behind some of these faces that 
I see on the road — beautiful as they are, something 
more wonderful than even the Taj itself — is indeed 
difficult. All this is very trying to people of demo- 
cratic tendencies ; but perhaps it will be said that 
such people ought not to visit India, at any rate 
under its present conditions. 

One must I suppose console oneself with the 
Taj. I saw it for a few brief minutes this evening 
under the magic conditions of deep twilight. I was 
standing in the middle of the garden which opens 
like a lovely park in front of the tomb. Cypresses 
and other trees hid its base ; the moonlight was 
shining very tenderly and faintly on the right of the 



DELHI AND AGRA. 



291 



great white building ; and on its left a touch of the 
blush of sunset still lingered on the high dome. 
The shadows and recesses and alcoves were folded 
as it were in the most delicate blue mist ; the four 
minarets were (in the doubtful light) hardly visible ; 
and in the heart of the shrine, through the marble 




THE TAJ, AT AGRA> 

lacework of doors and screens, was seen the yellow 
glow of the lights which burn perpetually there. 

I think this is the best point of view. The garden 
foliage hides the square platform on which the Taj 
stands — which platform with its four commonplace 
minarets is an ugly feature, and looks too obtrusively 
like a table turned upside down. Indeed the near 
view of the building is not altogether pleasing to 
me. The absolute symmetry of the four sides, 



292 FROM ADAM S TEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

which are Identical even down to the mosaic designs, 
and the abrupt right angles of the base give the 
thing a very artificial look. But the Inlaid work of 
colored and precious stones — only to be seen on a 
near view — Is of course perfect. 

The Taj stands on a terrace which falls perpen- 
dicular Into the Jumna river (behind the building 
in the above Illustration). A mile and a half away 
to the west lies the sombre line of the fort walls 
crowned with the marble kiosks and minarets of the 
royal palace. A mile or two beyond that again lies 
the city of Agra, with one or two spires of English 
churches or colleges ; while to the east the lovely 
tomb looks out over a wild ravine land, bare and 
scarred, which suggests a landscape In the moon as 
much as anything. 

In the daytime the ornamental garden of which 
I have spoken, with its gay flowers, and water-tanks, 
and children at play, sets off the chaste beauty of the 
building ; while the reflected lights from the marble 
platform, with their creamy tints, and blue In the 
shadows, give an added aerial charm. The thing 
certainly stands solid as though it would last for 
centuries — and might have been built yesterday for 
any sign of decay about it. Indeed I was startled — 
as If my own thoughts had been echoed — when I 
heard a voice behind me say In good English, 
" This is rather a different style from your English 
jerry-building is It not ? " — and looking round saw 
a somewhat jerry-built native youth, whose style 
showed that he came from one of the great com- 
mercial centres, saluting me in these mocking tones. 

The small green parrots (the same that one 



DELHI AND AGRA. 293 

commonly sees in cages in England) which are 
common all over India, and which haunt the Taj 
here and its garden, billing and chattering close by 
one, are quite a feature of the place ; their flight, 
with the long tail straight behind, is something like a 
cuckoo's or a hawk's. Occasionally one may see a 
vulture perched upon some point of vantage looking 
down upon them with an envious eye. In Delhi, 
walking through a crowded street, I saw a kite swoop 
down and actually snatch something — some eatable 
I think — out of a child's hand a little in front of me. 
It then soared up into the air, leaving the little one 
terrified and sobbing on a doorstep. 

This great river (the Jumna, and the Ganges the 
same) and the plain through which it slowly winds 
have a great fascination for me — the long reaches 
and sandy spurs, the arid steep banks and low cliffs 
catching just now the last red light of sunset — here 
and there a little domed building standing out on 
a promontory, with steps down to the water — or a 
brown grass-woven tent on the sands below ; the 
great vultures slowly flapping hitherward through 
the fading light ; a turtle splashing into the water ; 
the full moon mounting into the sky, though yet 
with subdued glory, and already the twinkle of a 
light in a house here and there ; and on my right 
this great mountain of marble catching the play of 
all the heavenly radiances. 

She must have been very beautiful, that queen- 
wife " the crown of the palace," to have inspired 
and become the soul of a scene like this ; or very 
lovely in some sense or other — for I believe she 
was already the mother of eight children when she 



294 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

died. But indeed it does not matter much about 
external or conventional beauty ; wherever there is 
true love there is felt to be something so lovely that 
all symbols, all earth's shows, are vain to give utter- 
ance to it. Certainly if anything could stand for the 
living beauty of a loved creature, it might be this 
dome pulsating with all the blushes and radiances 
of the sky, which makes a greater dome above it. 

Across the river, just opposite, you dimly dis- 
tinguish the outline of a vast platform — now mainly 
ploughed up and converted into fields — on which the 
good Shah intended to have built a similar or twin 
tomb for his own body ; fortunately however he 
died long before this idea could be carried out, and 
now he lies more appropriately by the side of his 
loved one in the vocal gloom of that lofty interior. 

'' You say we Mahomedans do not respect our 
women, yet where in all Europe can you point out 
a monument to a woman, equal to this ?" said Syed 
Mahmoud triumphantly to me one day. And 
then one remembers that this precious monument 
(like so many others that the world is proud of) was 
made by the forced and famine labor of 20,000 
workmen working for seventeen years — and one 
thinks, *' What about them and ^/leir wives ? " 

Called on a coterie of professors connected with 
the university college at Agra — A. C. Bose, who is 
professor of mathematics ; Gargaris, professor of 
physics; Nilmani Dhar, law lecturer; and A. C. 
Bannerji, judge of small cause court — an intelligent 
and interesting lot of fellows. I found Bose reading 
a book on Quaternions ; when he learnt that I had 



DELHI AND AGRA. 295 

known W. K. Clifford at Cambridge he was much 
interested, and wanted to hear all about him — 
has read his book on ** The Common Sense of the 
Exact Sciences," and was interested in the theory 
of " crumpled space " and the fourth dimension. 
They told me a good deal about family communism 
as it exists among the Bengalis, and spoke rather feel- 
ingly of its drawbacks — in respect of the incubus of 
poor relations, etc. They also asked some questions 
— rather touching — about sending their sons to study 
in England, and what treatment they might expect at 
the hands of the English at home — "if it were the 
same as we receive here, we would never consent to 
send our sons." Of course I assured them that 
their reception in England would be perfectly 
cordial and friendly. At the same time I said that 
they must not think ill of the English people gene- 
rally because of the unfortunate gulf existing between 
the two races in India ; because after all the officials 
and AngloTndians generally — though an honorable 
body — could not be taken to represent the whole 
people of England, but only a small section ; and 
that as a matter of fact the masses of the people in 
England made much the same complaint against 
the moneyed and ruling sections there, namely, that 
they were wanting in good manners. Bannerji 
asked me if I saw the Lieut.-Governor (Sir A. 
Colvin) at Allahabad, and I said that I had had 
some conversation with him, and that I thought 
him a man of marked ability and culture, and pro- 
bably having more liberality in his real opinions 
than his natural reserve and caution would allow him 
to give rein to. 



296 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

Gargaris is a big-headed logical- minded slowish 
man who inquired much after the Positivists, and 
apparently thinks much of them — being indeed 
of that type himself. Nilmani Dhar seemed very 
enthusiastic about the Brahmo Somaj, which I can- 
not say I feel any interest in. He is of course a 
Theist, but most of the folk now-a-days who go in 
for Western learning and ideas are Agnostics, and 
adopt the scientific materialism of Huxley and 
Tyndall. 

The men in the streets here — and I noticed the 
same at Nagpore — are very handsome, many of them, 
with their large eyes and well-formed noses, neither 
snub nor hooked, and short upper lips. With great 
turbans (sometimes a foot high) on their heads, 
and fine moustaches, they look quite martial ; but 
like mermaids they end badly, for when you look 
below you see two thinnest shins with litde tight 
cotton leggings round them, and bare feet. How 
they get these leggings on and off is a question 
which I have not yet been able to solve. Anyhow I 
have come to the conclusion about the Hindus gene- 
rally that their legs are too thin for them ever to do 
much in the world. 

The people sitting by the hundred at all the 
railway stations in this part of India, w^aiting for 
their trains, are quite a sight. They congregate in 
large sheds or areas — hardly to be called waiting 
rooms — reserved for this purpose ; and whether it be 
that their notion of time is so defective, or whether 
it be for the sake of society or of rest or shelter 
that they come there, certain it is that at any hour 



DELHI AND AGRA. 297 

of day or night you may see these compacted crowds 
of thin-shanked undemonstrative men, with wives 
and children, seated squatting on their hams, talking 
or meditating or resigning themselves to sleep, as 
if the arrival of their train was an event far remote, 
and of the very least importance. They must how- 
ever really enjoy this method of traveling, for the 
third-class carriages are generally crowded with the 
poorer natives. They squat on the seats in all 
attitudes, and berth-like seats being let down over- 
head, they sometimes occupy these too — forming two 
storeys of cross-legged mortals. The women and 
children have a carriage to themselves — a fine ex- 
hibition generally of nose-rings and ear-rings. It 
is the third class that pays ; first and second are 
only scantily used ; the first by English alone, the 
second by mixed English and higher class natives. 
Though the distances to be covered by the travel- 
ing Englishman are generally large the conditions 
are not uncomfortable. Journeys are made largely by 
night, for coolness ; first and second class are gene- 
rally small saloons with couch-like seats ; and these 
couches with the berths available above generally 
allow of one's having a good stretch and a sound 
sleep. 

Traveling second class one meets (though not 
always) with some pleasant bivalves. As a speci- 
men (and a favorable one) of the Young India that 
is growing up under modern influences I may men- 
tion a railway goods clerk who was my companion 
in the train between Nagpore and Bombay ; a very 
bright face with clear well-balanced expression, 
and good general ability, — said he worked ten 



298 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

hours a day on the average, Rs. fifteen a month, but 
would be raised next year; was leaving Nagpore 
district because it was so out of the way — no papers, 
etc. ''In Bombay you knew what was going on all 
over the world. Why he had only heard of Mr. 
Bradlaugh's death yesterday — two months after 
date." The English rule was very good. *' Under 
the Mahrattas you were liable any day to have your 
goods stolen, but now there was general security, 
and peace between the different peoples instead of 
dissension as there would be if the English were to 
go" — a real nice fellow, and I felt quite sorry when 
he left the train. 

Later on the same evening, in the same train, a little 
incident occurred which may be worth recording. I 
and another Englishman were the sole occupants of 
the compartment ; it was in fact near midnight, and 
we were stretched on our respective couches, when 
our slumbers were disturbed by the entrance of a 
family of four or five Parsees, among whom were a 
lady and a child and an old gentleman of somewhat 
feeble but refined appearance. Of course, though 
we were not disturbed, there was a little conversation 
and discussion while couches were being arranged 
and berths let down, etc. — till at last my fellow- 
countryman, losing his little store of patience, rolled 
over among his rugs with a growl : " 1 wish you 
would stop that chattering, you Parsees,'' To which, 
when they had settled themselves a bit, one of them 
replied, *' Please to sleep now, M7\ Gentleman^ 



CHAPTER XVII. 

BOMBAY. 

The native city of Bombay Is really an Incredible 
sight. I walked through some part of It I suppose 
every day for a week or more, trying to photograph 
Its shows upon my brain, yet every day It seemed 
more brilliant and original than before — and I felt 
that description or even remembrance were nothing 
to compare with the actual thing. The Intense 
light, the vivid colors, the extraordinarily pictur- 
esque life, the bustle and movement ; the narrow 
high tumbled houses with projecting storeys, painted 
shutters, etc., and alleys simply thronged with peo- 
ple ; the usual little shops with four or five men 
and boys squatted In each, and multifarious pro- 
ducts and traffic — gold and silver work of excellent 
quality, elegant boxes and cabinets, all being pro- 
duced in full view of the public— embroidery and 
cap shops, fruit shops, sweetmeat shops, cloth mer- 
chants, money-changers ; such a chattering, chaffer- 
ing and disputing, jokes shouted across the street 
from shop to shop ; Hindu temples, mosques, opium 
dens, theatres, clubs ; and at night, lights and open 
casements and balconies above with similar groups ; 
handsome private houses too scattered about, but 
some of them now converted into warehouses or 
lodging-houses, and looking dirty enough. 

299 



300 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



Imagine a great house towering above the rest, 
with projecting storeys and balconies and casements 
— the top tiers nothing but painted wood and glass, 
like the stern of a huge three-decker. The base- 
ment storey is open and fronted with great carved 
wooden columns. Here are a few plants standing, 
and among them — his gold-brown body thrown up 




' V'- ' ^' r^ T-^fc: '/^ 



f^i 





STREET IN BOMBAY, NATIVE QUARTER. 
{Little shops on each side, a mosque on the le/t.) 

against the gloom behind — stands a young boy of 
eight or nine, nearly naked, with silver wristlets and 
string of blue beads round his neck. The next 
houses are low, only two or three storeys, and their 
basements are let out in tiny shops only a few 
feet square each. Here squatted among cushions, 
smoking his long pipe, sits an old money-lender 



BOMBAY. 301 

with white cap and frock and gold-rlmmed spec- 
tacles. Near him are boys and assistants, totting up 
accounts or writing letters on their knees. The 
man is worth thousands of pounds, but his place 
of business is not bigger than a dining-room table 
— and there are scores like him. The next few 
shops are all silversmiths — four or five in each shop, 
couches and cushions as before, and cabinets full of 
trinkets. Further on they are hammering brass 
and copper — a score of shops at least consecutive. 
Now we come to an archway, through which behold 
a large reservoir, with people bathing. There is a 
Hindu temple here, and they do not like us to 
enter; but under the arch sits an old ascetic. He 
has sat cross-legged for so many years that he can 
take no other position ; sometimes for extra penance 
he gets them to lift him up and seat him on a spiked 
board ; but I fancy he is such a hardened old sinner 
that he does not feel even that much ! He is a 
well-known character in the city. 

A little farther on, in a balcony, is a group of 
girls, with henna-black eyes, somewhat daintily got 
up, and on the look-out for visitors. Now a covey 
of Parsee women and children comes by, brilliant 
in their large silk wraps (for even the poorer Parsee 
females make a point of wearing these) — pale-green, 
or salmon color, or blue — drawn over their heads 
and depending even to their feet — their large dark 
eyes shining with fire and intelligence, not the 
timid glance of the general run of Indian women. 
Many of the Parsee fair ones, indeed — especially of 
the well-to-do classes — are exceedingly handsome. 
But the women generally in Bombay form quite a 



;o2 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



feature ; for the Mahrattas, who constitute the bulk 
of the population, do not shut up their women, any 
more than the Parsees do, and numbers of these — 
mostly of course, though not exclusively, of the 
poorer classes — may be seen moving quite freely 
about the streets : the Mahratta fisher-women for 







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PARSER WOMAN. 



instance, dressed not in the long depending cloak 
of the Parsees, but in the ordinary Indian sari, 
which they wind gracefully about the body, leaving 
their legs bare from the knees down. Of the 
Parsees I understand that they are very helpful to 
each other as a community, and while leaving their 



BOMBAY. 303 

women considerable freedom are at pains to pre.- 
vent any of them falling through poverty into a life 
of prostitution. 

If you take this general description of the native 
Bombay, and add to it a handsome modern city, 
with fine Banks, Post and Government offices, 
esplanades, parks, docks, markets, railway stations, 
etc. ; and then again add to that a manufacturing 
quarter with scores of chimneys belching out smoke, 
ugly stretches of waste land, and all the dirt of a 
Sheffield or Birmingham (only with coco-palms 
instead of oak-trees shriveling in the blight) ; then 
distribute through it all a population, mainly colored, 
but of every nation in the world, from sheerly 
naked water-carriers and coolies to discreet long- 
raimented Parsees and English " gentlemen and 
ladies " — you will have an idea of Bombay — the 
most remxarkable city certainly that I have visited 
in this part of the world. 

The Parsee nose is much in evidence here. You 
meet it coming round the corner of the street long 
before its owner appears. It is not quite the same 
as the Jewish, but I find it difficult to define the 
difference ; perhaps though larger it is a little 
suaver in outline — more suaviter in modo, thouofh 
not less for titer in re. It is followed by a pair of 
eyes well on the alert, which don't miss anything 
that the nose points out. At every turn you meet 
that same shrewd old gentleman with the beauti- 
fully white under-raiment falling to his feet, and a 
long China silk coat on, and black brimless hat — so 
collected and "all there"; age dims not the lustre 
of his eye to biz. Somehow he strangely reminds 



304 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



one of the neighborhood of the London Stock 
Exchange, only it is a face of more general ability 
than you often see in the City. 

And (what also is more than can be said for his 
city confrere) he is up early in the morning for his 
religious exercises. At sunrise you may see him on 




PARSEE jMERCHANTS. 



the esplanades, maidans, and other open places, say- 
ing his prayers with his face turned towards the east. 
He repeats or reads in an undertone long passages, 
and then bows three times towards the light ; then 
sometimes turning round will seem to go through 
a similar ceremony with his back to it. The pecu- 



BOMBAY. 305 

llarity of the physiognomy (not forgetting the nose 
of course) seems to lie in the depth of the eye. 
This together with the long backward line of the 
eyelid gives a remarkable look of intelligence and 
earnestness to the finer faces. 

The younger Parsee is also very much to the fore 
— a smartish fellow not without some Brummagem 
self-confidence — pushing in business and in his 
efforts to join in the social life of the English ; who 
in revenge are liable to revile him as the 'Arry of 
the East. Anyhow they are a go-ahead people, 
these Cursetjees, Cowasjees, Pestonjees, and Jejeeb- 
hoys, and run most of the cotton mills here (though 
one would think that they anight manage to get 
on w^ithout quite so many "jees"). Justice Telang 
spoke to me highly one day of them as a body — 
their helpful brotherly spirit and good capacity and 
versatility. He said however that they were not 
taking the lead in business quite so much as formerly, 
but turning rather more to political life. 

Telang himself is a Mahratta — a sturdy well- 
fleshed man, of energy and gentleness combined — 
able, sound, and sensible, I should say, with good 
judgment and no humbug. He of course thinks the 
creation of a united India a long and difficult affair : 
but does not seem to despair of its possibility ; ac- 
knowledges that the Mahomedan element is mostly 
indifferent or unfriendly to the idea, but the Parsees 
are favorable. 

I was in Telang's court one day, and admired 
much the way he conducted the business. On the 
whole I thought the English barristers present 
showed up only feebly against the native judge 

X 



3o6 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

and pleaders. I certainly am inclined to think 
the educated oysters quite equal or if anything 
superior to the Englishman in matters of pure intel- 
lect (law, mathematics, etc.) ; where they are want- 
ing — taking the matter quite in bulk, and with many 
individual exceptions — is in that quality which is 
expressed by the word inorale ; and it is that defect 
which prevents them being able to make the best use 
of their brain power, or to hold their own against 
us in the long run. So important is that quality. 
The Anglo-Saxons, with deficient brains, have it in 
a high degree, and are masters of the world. 

I called another day on Tribhovan Das, who is 
head of the Bunyas here — a large and influential 
merchant caste. He occupies the house which 
belonged to his father. Sir Mungal Das, who was 
member of the Bombay Legislative Council and a 
great man in his time both in wealth and influence. 
The house is a large one standing in the native 
city. We went and sat in state in a big drawing- 
room, and then made a tour of the other reception 
rooms and the library, and solemnly inspected and 
admired the works of art — oscillating models of 
ships in a storm, pictures with musical boxes con- 
cealed behind them, a huge automatic musical 
organ, wax-flowers and fruits in the library, foun- 
tains in the garden, etc. — all quite in the style of 
the reception rooms of wealthy natives twenty years 
or so ago. Tribhovan showed me over it all with 
that mingled air of childlike pride and intense 
boredom which I have noticed before in Orientals 
under the same circumstances ; then took me out for 
a drive in his swagger barouche, with white horses 



BOMBAY. 307 

and men in sky-blue livery — along the Malabar drive 
and up to the reservoir on the hill-top, a very 
charming seaside road, and thronged at that hour 
on vSunday evening with carriages and the motley 
aristocracy of the city. The view from the reser- 
voir is famous. The Malabar hill is a promontory 
jutting southward into the sea, and occupied largely 
with villa residences. Westward from its summit 
you look over the open ocean, dotted with white 
sails ; eastward, or south-eastward, across a narrow 
bay, is seen the long spit of flat land on which 
modern mercantile Bombay stands, with its hand- 
some public buildings and long line of esplanade 
already at that hour beginning to twinkle with 
lamps. Beyond that spit again, and farther east- 
ward, lies another much deeper and larger bay, 
the harbor proper, with masts of ships just dis- 
cernible ; and beyond that again are the hills of 
the mainland. At the base of the spit and a little 
inland lies the native portion of Bombay — largely 
hidden, from this point of view, by the masses of 
coco-nut trees which grow along its outskirts and 
amongst its gardens. 

Tribhovan said he would much like to come to 
England, but that as head of the caste it was quite 
impossible. He told me that many people think 
the Bunyas took their dress (the cylindrical stiff hat. 
like an English chimney-pot hat without a brim, 
and the long coat buttoned close round the neck) 
from the Parsees ; but it was just the opposite — the 
Parsees when they came to India having adopted 
the dress of those Hindus amongst whom they first 
found themselves, namely the Bunyas. 



o 



08 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 



Whilst driving back through the city we came 
upon a marriage ceremony going on — a garden full 
of lights, and crowds of people conversing and 
taking refreshments. Two houses opened on the 
same garden, and one of these was occupied for the 
occasion by the bridegroom and his friends, and the 
other by the bride. This is the orthodox arrange- 
ment, enabling the bridegroom to descend into the 
garden and go through the ceremony of taking his 
bride ; and my host explained that houses thus 
arranged are often kept and let solely for this pur- 
pose—as few people have houses and gardens of 
their own large enough for the array of guests asked, 
or suitably built for the ceremony. In the thick of 
the city the bridegroom will sometimes manage to 
hire or get the loan of a house In the same street and 
opposite to that in which his bride dwells, and then 
the street is turned into a temporary garden with 
ornamental shrubs and branches, and lanterns are 
hung (for the ceremony is always in the evening) 
and chairs placed In rows, and a large part of the 
processions and festivities are as public as the 
gossips can desire. All this adds much to the charm 
of life in this most picturesque city. 

The native theatres here are a great institution — 
crowded mostly by men and boys of the poorer sort 
— the performance a curious rambling business, be- 
ginning about 9 p.m. and lasting say till 2 or 3 in 
the morning ! Murderous and sensational scenes 
carried out by faded girls and weak ambrosial 
youths, and protracted in long-drawn agonies of 
operatic caterwauling, with accompaniment of won- 
drous chromatic runs on the taus and a bourdon 



BOMBAY. 309 

bass on some wind-instrument. Occasionally a few 
sentences spoken form a great relief. What makes 
the performance so long is the slowness of the 
action — worse even than our old-fashioned opera; if 
the youth is madly in love with the girl he goes 
on telling her so in the same '' rag " for a quarter 
of an hour. Then she pretends to be indifferent, 
and spurns him in another ''rag" for fifteen minutes 
more ! 

Another feature of Bombay now-a-days, and in- 
deed of most of the towns of India, including even 
quite small villages, is the presence and work of the 
Salvation Army. I must say I am Philistine enough 
to admire these people greatly. Here in this city 
I find "Captain" Smith and young Jackson (who 
were on board ship with me coming out), working 
away night and day in the " cause," and always 
cheerfully and with a smile on their faces — leading a 
life of extreme simplicity, penury almost, having no 
wages, but only bare board and lodging — with no 
chance even to return home if they get sick of the 
work, unless it were by the General's order. " I 
should have to work my way back on board ship if 
I wanted to go, but I shall not want to go, I shall 
be happy here," said Jackson to me. These two at 
any rate I feel are animated by a genuine spirit. 
Whatever one may think of their judgment or 
their philosophy, I feel that they really care for 
the lowest and most despised people and are glad 
to be friends and brothers with them — and after all 
that is better philosophy than is written in the 
books. They adopt the dress of the people and 
wear turbans and no shoes ; and most of them 



3IO FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

merge their home identity and adopt a native name. 
Of course It Is easy to say this is done out of mere 
religious conceit and bravado ; but I am certain that 
In many cases it springs from something much 
deeper than that. 

One day I joined a party of five of them on their 
way to the Caves of Elephanta — "Captain" and Mrs. 
Smith, "Sikandra" (Alexander), and two others. 
Mrs. Smith Is a nice-looking and real good woman 
of about thirty years of age, and Sikandra is a boy 
of ability and feeling who has been out here about 
three years. They were all as nice and natural as 
could be (weren't pious at all), and we enjoyed our 
day no end — a three hours sail across the bay in a 
lateen-sailed boat with two natives — the harbor a 
splendid sight, with its innumerable shipping, native 
fish-boats, P. and O. and other liners, two or three 
ironclads, forts, lighthouses, etc. — and then on beyond 
all that to the retired side of the bay and the 
Islands ; picnic on Elephanta Island under the shade 
of a great tamarind tree — visit to the caves, etc. ; 
and return across the water at sundown. 

Very Indian these Islands — the hot smell of the 
ground covered with dead grass and leaves, the faint 
aromatic odor of sparse shrubs, with now and then 
a waft of delicious frao-rance from the little white 
jessamine, the thorns and cactus, palms, and mighty 
tamarinds dropping their sweet-acid fruit. Then 
the sultry heat at midday, the sea lying calm and 
blue below in haze, through which the ridged and 
rocky mountains of the mainland indistinctly loom, 
.and the far white sails of boats ; nearer, a few 
Jiumped cows and a collection of primitive huts, 




^ 



312 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

looking, from above, more like heaps of dead 
palm-leaves than human habitations. 

The great cave impressed me very much. I have 
not seen any other of these Indian rock-sanctuaries, 
but this one gave me a greater sense of artistic power 
and splendid purpose than anything in the way 
of religious architecture — be it mosque or Hindu 
temple — that I have seen in India. It is about half- 
way up the hillside from the water, and consists of 
a huge oblong hall, 50 yards square, cut sheerly into 
the face of the rock, with lesser halls opening into 
it on each side. Huge pillars of rock, boldly but 
symmetrically carved, are left in order to support the 
enormous weight above ; and the inner roof is flat — 
except for imitations of architraves running from 
pillar to pillar. The daylight, entering in mass 
from the front, and partly also by ingenious arrange- 
ment from the sides, is broken by the many great 
pillars, and subdues itself at last into a luminous 
gloom in the interior — where huge figures of the 
gods, 18 feet high, in strong relief or nearly detached, 
stand out from the walls all round. These figures 
are nobly conceived and executed, and even now 
in their mutilated condition produce an extraordin- 
arily majestic effect, making the spectator fancy that 
he has come into the presence of beings vastly 
superior to himself 

On the back wall immediately opposite the en- 
trance are three huge panels of sculpture — the most 
important objects In the temple. The midmost of 
these consists of three colossal heads — Brahma, 
Vishnu and Siva — united in one ; Brahma of course 
full faced, the others in profile. Each head with its 
surmounting tiara is some twelve feet high, and the 



BOMBAY. 3 I 3 

portions of the busts represented add another six feet. 
The whole is cut deep into the rock so as to be 
almost detached ; and the expression of the heads — 
which are slightly inclined forwards — is full of 
reserved power and dignity. It is Brahm, the un- 
realisable and infinite god, the substratum of all, just 
dawning into multiple existence — allowing himself to 
be seen in his first conceivable form. 

In this trinity Vishnu of course represents the idea 
of Evolution — the process by which the inner spirit 
unfolds and generates the universe of sensible forms 
— as when a man wakes from sleep and lets his 
thoughts go out into light and definition ; Siva repre- 
sents the idea of Involution, by which thought 
and the sensible universe are indrawn again into 
quiescence ; and Brahma represents the state which 
is neither Evolution nor Involution — and yet is 
both — existence itself, now first brought into the 
region of thought through relation to Vishnu and 
Siva. 

Each figure with a hand upturned and resting on 
the base of its neck holds an emblem : Vishnu the 
lotus-flower of generation, Brahma the gourd of 
fruition, and Siva a cobra, the '' good snake " whose 
bite is certain dissolution. Siva also has the third 
eye — the eye of the interior vision of the universe, 
which comes to the man who adopts the method of 
Involution. There is good reason to suppose, from 
marks on the rock, that the recess in which this 
manifestation of deity is carved was closed by a veil 
or screen, only to be drawn aside at times of great 
solemnity. A hollow behind the triple head is 
pointed out, in which it is supposed that a concealed 
priest could simulate the awful tones of the god. 



314 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

Of the three forms of the trinity Siva is the most 
popular in Hindu devotion, and he forms the centre 
figure of all the other panels here. The panel on 
the right of the principal one just described portrays 
the next devolution of godhead — namely into the 
form of humanity — and represents Siva as a complete 
full length human being conjoining the two sexes in 



PANEL OF SIVA AND HIS CONSORT PARVATI, ELEPHANTA. 

one person. This idea, of the original junction of 
the sexes, though it may be philosophically tenable, 
and though it is no doubt supported by a variety of 
traditions — see the Bible, Plato, etc. — and by certain 
interior experiences which have been noticed (and 
which are probably the sources of tradition) is 
inartistic enough when graphically portrayed ; and 
the main figure of this panel, with its left side 



BOMBAY. 3 I 5 

projecting into a huge breast and hip, is only a mon- 
strosity. As to the sexual parts themselves they 
are unfortunately quite defaced. The cloud of mov- 
ing figures however around and above, who seem to 
be witnessing this transformation, are very spirited. 

The third panel — on the left of the principal one 
— in which the differentiation is complete, and Siva 
and his consort Sakti or Parvati are represented side 
by side as complete male and female figures, in 
serene and graceful pose — he colossal and occupying 
nearly the centre of the panel, she smaller and a little 
to one side — is a great success. Round them in the 
space above their heads a multitude of striding clean- 
legged figures bear witness to the energy of creation 
now fully manifested in this glorious pair. 

The rest of the panels though still colossal are on 
a slightly smaller scale, and seem to represent the 
human-divine life of Siva : his actual marriage, his 
abandonment of home, his contest with Ravana, his 
terrible triumph over and slaughter of his enemies, 
his retirement into solitude and meditation, and his 
ultimate reabsorption into Brahm, figured by his 
frenzied dance in the " hall of illimitable happiness " 
^that most favorite subject of the Hindu sculptors. 
This last panel — though the legs and arms are all 
broken — has extraordinary vigor and animation, and 
is one of the very best. The whole series in fact, 
to those who can understand, is a marvelous 
panorama of the human soul. The work is full of 
allegorical touches and hints, yet hardly ever becomes 
grotesque or inartistic. It provides suggestions of 
the profoundest philosophy, yet the rudest peasant 
walking through these dim arcades could not but be 



3i6 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



affected by what he sees. In every direction there 
are signs of ''go" and primitive power which point to 
its production as belonging to a time (probably about 
the loth cent, a.d.) of early vigor and mastery and 
of grand conception. 

I should not forget to mention that in a square 
chamber also hewn out of the rock, but accessible 






'-^r-i 







■X: 






INTERIOR SHRINE, ELEPHANTA. 



by a door in each of the four sides, is a huge lingam 
— which was probably also kept concealed except on 
great occasions ; and round the exterior walls of the 
chamber, looking down the various aisles of the 
temple, are eight enormous guardian figures, of fine 
and composed workmanship. (See illustration — in 
which a man is standing beneath the torso of the 
nearest figure.) Altogether the spirit of the whole 



BOMBAY. 3 I 7 

thing Is to my mind Infinitely finer than that of the 
South Indian temples, which with their courts and 
catacomb-like Interiors suggest no great Ideas> but 
only a general sense of mystery and of Brahmanlcal 
ascendancy. 

March 6th. — A little after sunset yesterday 
'' SIkandra" took me to see an opium den In the 
native quarter. It was rather early, as the cus- 
tomers were only just settling in, but the police close 
these places at nine. Much what I expected. A dark 
dirty room with raised wide bench round the sides, 
on which folk could lie, with little smoky lamps for 
them to burn their opium. For three pice you get a 
little thimbleful of laudanum, and by continually 
taking a drop on the end of a steel prong and frizzling 
it in the flame you at last raise a viscid lump hardly 
as big as a pea, which you put In a pipe, and then 
holding the mouth of the pipe in the flame, draw 
breath. Two or three whiffs of thick smoke are thus 
obtained — and then more stuff has to be prepared ; 
but the poison soon begins to work, and before long 
the smoker lies motionless, with his eyes open and his 
pipe dropping out of his hand. I spoke to a man 
who was just preparing his dose, and who looked 
very thin and miserable, asking him if he did not 
find It damage his health ; but he said that he could 
not get along without it — If he gave it up for a day 
or two he could not do his work, and felt nervous 
and ill. 

The effect of tPiese drugs, opium, haschisch (hemp 
or ganja),^ as well as of laughing gas, sulphuric ether, 

^ As a curiosity of derivation it appears that these two words 
hemp dLwdi ganja 2iXQ irom. the same root: '^diUsk.nX. goni, ganjika ; 



3i8 FROM adam's peak to elephanta. 

etc., is no doubt to produce a suspension of the 
specially bodily and local faculties for the time, and 
with it an inner Illumination and consciousness, very 
beatific and simulating the real ''ecstasy." Laugh- 
ing gas (nitrous oxide) produces a species of illumi- 
nation and intuition Into the secrets of the universe 
at times — as in the case of Sir Humphry Davy, who 
first used it on himself and who woke up exclaiming, 
'' Nothing exists but thoughts ! the universe Is com- 
posed of impressions, ideas, pleasures and pains." 
The feelings induced by opium and haschisch have 
often been described In somewhat similar terms ; and 
it has to be remembered that many much-abused 
practices — indulgence in various drugs and strong 
drinks, mesmeric trance-states, frantic dancing and 
singing, as well as violent asceticisms, self-tortares, 
etc. — owe their hold upon humanity to the same fact, 
namely that they induce in however remote and 
imperfect a degree or by however unhealthy a 
method some momentary realisation of that state of 
cosmic consciousness of which we have spoken, and 
of the happiness attending it — the intensity of which 
happiness may perhaps be measured by the strength 
of these very abuses occurring in the search for It, 
and may perhaps be compared, for its actual force 
as a motive of human conduct, with the intensity of 
the sexual orgasm. 

One evening two or three friends that I had made 
among the native '' proletariat " — post-office and rail- 
way clerks — insisted on giving me a little entertain- 

Persian, Greek and Latin, cannabis; French chanvre ; German 
Ha7tf ; Dutch hennep. Cativas also is the same word. 



BOMBAY. 319 

ment. I was driven down to the native city, and 
landed in a garden-like court with little cottages all 
round. To one of these we were invited. Found 
quite a collection of people ; numbers increasing on 
my arrival till there must have been about fifty. Just 
a little front room nine feet square, with no furniture 
except one folding chair which had been brought 
from heaven knows where in my honor. A nice 
rug had been placed on the ground, and pillows 
round the walls ; and the company soon settled down, 
either inside the room (having left their shoes at the 
door), or in the verandah. A musician had been 
provided, in the shape of an old man who had a 
variety of instruments and handled them skilfully as 
far as I could judge. But the performance was rather 
wearisome and lasted an unconscionably long time. 

It was very curious to me, as a contrast to English 
ways, to see all these youngish fellows sitting round 
listening to this rather stupid old man playing by 
the hour — so quiescent and resigned if one might 
use the word. They are so fond of simply doing 
nothing ; their legs crossed and heads meditatively 
bent forward ; clerks, small foremen and book- 
keepers, and some probably manual workers — 
looking very nice and clean withal in their red 
turbans and white or black shawls or coats. 

There is a certain tastefulness and grace always 
observable in India. Here I could not but notice, 
not only the Mahratta dress, but all the interior 
scene ; plain color-washed walls edged with a run- 
ning pattern, the forms of the various instruments, a 
few common bowls brought in to serve as musical 
glasses, the brass pot from which water was poured 



320 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

into them — all artistic In design and color, though 
the house was of tiniest proportions — only apparently 
two or three rooms, of the same size as that one. 

After the music a little general conversation 
ensued, with coffee and cigarettes, talk of course 
turning on the inevitable Congress question and the 
relations of England and India — a subject evidently 
exciting the deepest Interest in those present ; but 
not much I think was added to former conversa- 
tions. One of the company (a post-office clerk) says 
that all the educated and thoughtful people in India 
are with the Congress, to which I reply that it is 
much the same with the socialist movement in the 
West. He thinks — and they all seem to agree 
with him — that the condition of the agricultural 
people is decidedly worse than it used to be ; but 
when I ask for evidence there is not much forth- 
coming, except references to DIgby. I guess the 
statement Is on the whole true, but the obvious 
difficulty of corroborating these things Is very great ; 
the absence of records of the past, the vastness of 
India, the various conditions In different parts, etc., 
etc., make It very difficult to come to any general and 
sweeping conclusion. The same friend pointed out 
(from Digby) that mere statistics of the increasing 
wealth of India were quite illusive ''as they only 
indicated the Increase of profits to merchants and 
foreigners, and had nothing to do with the general 
prosperity " ; and to this I quite agreed, telling him 
that we had had plenty of statistics of the same kind 
In England ; but that this was only what might be 
expected, as the ruling classes in both countries being 
infected with commercialism would naturally measure 



BOMBAY. 321 

political success by trade- pro fits, and frame their laws 
too chiefly in view of a success of that kind. 

Several of those present maintained that it was 
quite a mistake to say the Mahomedans are against 
the Congress ; a certain section of them is, but only 
a section, and education is every day tending to 
destroy these differences and race-jealousies. I put 
the question seriously to them w^hether they really 
thought that within 50 or 100 years all these old 
race- differences, between Mahomedan and Hindu, 
Hindu and Eurasian, or between all the sections of 
Hindus, would be lost in a sense of national unity. 
Their reply was, '' Yes, undoubtedly." Education, 
they thought, would abolish the ill-feeling that 
existed, and indeed was doing so rapidly ; there would 
soon be one common language, the English ; and one 
common object, namely the realisation of Western 
institutions. Whether right or not in their specula- 
tions, it is interesting to find that such is the ideal of 
hundreds of thousands of the bulk-people of India 
now-a-days. Everywhere indeed one meets with 
these views. The Britisher in India may and does 
scoff at these ideals, and probably in a sense he is 
right. It may be (indeed it seems to me quite likely 
to be) impossible for a very long time yet to realise 
anything of the kind. At the same time who would 
not be touched by the uprising of a whole people 
towards such a dream of new and united life? And 
indeed the dream itself — like all other dreams — is a 
long step, perhaps the most important step, towards 
its own realisation. 

Thus we chatted away till about midnight, when 
with mutual compliments, and the usual presents of 



322 



FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 



flowers to the parting guest, we separated. These 
fellows evidently prize a little English society very 
much ; for though they learn our language in the 
schools and use it in the business of every-day life, 
it rarely, very rarely, happens that they actually get 
into any friendly conversation with an Englishman ; 
and I found that I was able to give them useful 




SIDE CAVE, ELEPHANTA. 



information — as for instance about methods of get- 
ting books out from England — and to answer a 
variety of other questions, which were really touch- 
ing in the latent suggestion they contained of the 
utter absence of any such help under ordinary cir- 
cumstances. It struck me indeed how much a 
few unpretending and friendly Englishmen might 
do to endear our country to this people. 



BOMBAY. 323 

It is quite a sight at night walking home — how- 
ever late one may be — to see on the maidans and 
open spaces bright lamps placed on the dusty turf, 
and groups of Parsees and others sitting round them 
on mats — playing cards, and enjoying themselves 
very composedly. Round the neighborhood of 
the Bunder quay and the club-houses and hotels 
the scene is rather more gay and frivolous. How 
pleasant and cool the night air, and yet not too cool ! 
The darkies sleep out night-long by hundreds in 
these places and on the pavements under the trees. 
They take their cloths, ^yrap them under their feet, 
bring them over their heads, and tuck them in at 
the sides ; and lie stretched straight out, with or 
without a mat under them, looking for all the world 
like laid-out corpses. 

Indian Ocean. — On the way to Aden. The 
harbor of Bombay looked very beautiful as we 
glided out in the ss. Siam — with its variegated 
shore and islands and shipping. I went down into 
my berth to have a sleep, and when I awoke we 
were out of sight of India or any land. Most lovely 
weather ; impossible to believe that England is 
shivering under a March sky, with north-east winds 
and gloom. The sea oily-calm ; by day suffused with 
sunlight up to the farthest horizon — only broken, 
and that but seldom, by the back-fin of a porpoise, 
or the glance of flying-fish ; by night gleaming 
faintly with the reflection of the stars and its own 
phosphorescence. Last night the sea was like a 
vast mirror, so smooth — ^every brighter star actually 
given again in wavering beauty in the world below 



324 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANT A. 

—the horizon softly veiled so that it was Impossible 
to tell where the two heavens (between which one 
seemed suspended) might meet. All so tender and 
calm and magnificent. Canopus and the Southern 
Cross and the Milky Way forming a great radiance 
In the south ; far ahead to the west Orion lying 
on his side, and Sirius, and the ruddy Aldebaran 
setting. Standing in the bows there was nothing 
between one and this immense world — nothing 
even to show that the ship was moving, except the 
rush of water from the bows — which indeed seemed 
an uncaused and unaccountable phenomenon. The 
whole thing was like a magic and beautiful poem. 
The phosphorescent stars (tiny jelly creatures) 
floating on the surface kept gliding swiftly over 
those other stars that lay so deep below ; sometimes 
the black ocean-meadows seemed to be sown thick 
with them like daisies. The foam round the bows 
lay like a luminous necklace to the ship, and fell 
continually over in a cascade of brilliant points, 
while now and then some bigger jelly tossed in the 
surge threw a glare up even in our faces. 

One might stand for hours thus catching the 
wind of one's own speed — so soft, so mild, so warm 
— the delicate aroma of the sea, the faint far sug- 
gestion of the transparent air and water, wafting, 
encircling one round. And indeed all my journey 
has been like this — so smooth, so unruffled, as if one 
had not really been moving. I have several times 
thought, and am inclined to think even now, that 
perhaps one has not left home at all, but that it has 
been a fair panorama that has been gliding past 
one all these months. 



THE OLD ORDER 



AND 



THE NEW INFLUENCES 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE OLD ORDER I CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 

There is certainly a most remarkable movement 
taking place in India to-day, towards modern com- 
mercialism and Western education and ideas, and 
away from the old caste and communal system of 
the past — a movement which while it is in some 
ways the reverse of our Western socialist movement 
answers curiously to it in the rapidity and intensity 
of its development and in the enthusiasm which it 
inspires. The movement is of course at present 
confined to the towns, and even in these to sections 
and coteries — the 90 per cent, agricultural popu- 
lation being as yet practically unaffected by it — 
but here again it is the old story of the bulk of 
the population being stirred and set in motion by 
the energetic few, or at any rate following at some 
distance on their lead ; and we may yet expect to 
see this take place in the present case. 

Knowing as we do at home the evils which 
attend our commercial and competitive order of 
society it is difficult to understand the interest 
which it arouses in India, until we realise the decay 
and degradation into which caste and the ancient 
communism have fallen. On these latter institu- 
tions commercialism is destined to act as a solvent, 
and though it is not likely that it will obliterate 



^28 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 



them — considering how deeply they are rooted in the 
genius of the Indian people, and considering how 
utterly dissimilar that genius is to the genius of the 
West — still it may fairly be hoped that it will clean 
away a great deal of rubbish that has accumulated 
round them, and free them to be of some use again 
in the future, when the present movement will pro- 
bably have had its fling and passed away. On all 
sides in India one meets with little points and de- 
tails which remind one of the Feudal system in our 
own lands ; and as this passed in its due time into 
the commercial system so will it be in India — only 
there is a good deal to indicate that the disease, or 
whatever it is, will not be taken so severely in India 
as in the West, and will run its course and pass over 
in a shorter time. 

The complexity into which the caste system has 
grown since the days when society was divided into 
four castes only — Brahmans, Kshattriyas, Vaisyas, 
and Sudras — is something most extraordinary. Race, 
occupation and geographical position have all had 
their influence in the growth of this phenomenon. 
When one hears that the Brahmans alone are 
divided into i,886 separate classes or tribes, one 
begins to realise what a complicated affair it is. 
'* The Brahmans," says Hunter in his Indian 
Einpire^ '' so far from being a compact unit are 
made up of several hundred castes who cannot 
intermarry nor eat food cooked by each other." Of 
course locality has a good deal to do with this sub- 
division; and it is said that a Brahman of the North- 
West is the most select, and can prepare food for all 
classes of Brahmans (it being a rule of all high 



THE OLD ORDER : CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 329 

caste that one must not touch food cooked by an 
inferior caste) ; but family and genealogical descent 
also no doubt have a good deal to do with it ; and 
as to employment, even among the Brahmans, though 
manual labor is a degradation in their eyes, plenti- 
ful individuals may be found who follow such trades 
as shepherds, fishermen, porters, potters, etc. Dr. 
Wilson of Bombay wrote two large volumes of 
his projected great w^ork on Caste, and then died; 
but had not finished his first subject, the Brahmans ! 

In the present day the Brahmans are I believe 
pretty equally distributed all over India, forming 
their own castes among the other races and castes, 
but of course not intermarrying with them, doing as 
a rule little or no manual work, but clustering in 
thousands round temples and holy places, full of 
greed and ever on the look-out for money. Though 
ignorant mostly, still they have good opportunities 
in their colleges for learning, and some are very 
learned. They alone can perform the temple ser- 
vices and priestly acts generally ; and oftentimes 
they do not disguise their contempt for the inferior 
castes, withdrawing their skirts pharisaically as they 
pass, or compelling an old and infirm person to 
descend into the muddy road while they occupy 
the narrow vantage of the footway. 

This Pharisaism of caste marks not only the 
Brahmans, but other sections ; a thousand vexatious 
rules and regulations hedge in the life of every 
" twice-born " man ; and the first glance at the 
streets of an Indian town makes one conscious of 
something antagonistic to humanity, in the broad 
sense by which it affords a common ground to the 



330 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

meeting of any two individuals. There are dif- 
ficulties in the way of mere human converse. Not 
only do people not eat together (except they belong 
to the same section) ; but they don't touch each 
other very freely ; don't shake hands, obviously ; 
even the terms of greeting are scanty. A sort of 
chill strikes one : a noli-me-tangere sentiment, which 
drives one (as usual) to find some of the most 
grateful company among the outcast. Yet the 
people are disposed to be friendly, and in fact are 
sensitive and clinging by nature ; but this is the 
form of society into which they have grown. 

The defence of the system from the native re- 
ligious point of view is that Caste defines a man's 
position and duties at once, limits him to a certain 
area of life, with its temptations and possibilities and 
responsibilities — (caste for instance puts a check on 
traveling ; to go to sea is to break all bounds) — and 
saves him therefore from unbridled license and the 
insane scramble of the West ; restricts his outward 
world and so develops the inward ; narrows his life 
and so causes it to reach higher — as trees thickly 
planted spire upward to the sky. Caste, it is said, 
holds society in a definite form, without which vague 
turmoil would for ever ensue, distracting men to 
worldly cares and projects and rendering them in- 
capable of the higher life. When however this last 
is developed within an individual, then — for him — 
the sanction of caste ceases, and he acknowledges it 
no more. As to the criticism — so obvious from the 
Western point of view — of the unfairness that a man 
should be confined all his life to that class or stratum 
in which he is born, to the Indian religioner this is 



THE OLD order: CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 33 I 

nothing ; since he beHeves that each man is born 
in those surroundings of Hfe which belong to his 
stage of progress, and must get the experience which 
belonp^s to that stag^e before movinof farther. 

However this may be, the rigidity of caste as it 
yet exists gives a strange shock to one's democratic 
notions. *' Once a dhobi always a dhobV,' says the 
proverb. The washerman (dhobi) is one of the 
poorest and most despised of men ; the word is in 
fact a common term of reproach ; but once a washer- 
man, a washerman (save in the rarest cases) you will 
remain. And once a pariah always a pariah — a 
thing that no caste man will touch. Yet — and here 
comes in the extraordinary transcendental demo- 
cracy (if one may call it so) of the Hindu religion — 
Brahm himself, the unnameable God, is sometimes 
called the dhobi, and some of the greatest religious 
teachers, including Tiruvalluvar, the author of the 
Kurral, have been drawn from the ranks of the 
Pariahs. 

The English themselves in India hardly realise 
how strong are the caste feelings and habits among 
all but the few natives who have fairly broken 
with the system. At a levee some few years back 
a Lieut. -Governor, to show his cordial feeling to- 
wards a native Rajah, put his hand on the prince's 
shoulder, while speaking to him ; but the latter, as 
soon as he could decently disengage himself, hurried 
home and took a bath, to purify himself from the 
touch ! Nor to this day can the mass of the people 
of India get over the disgust and disapprobation 
they felt towards the English when they found that 
they insisted on eating beef- — a thing that only the 



332 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

very lowest classes will touch ; Indeed this habit has 
not only done a good deal to alienate the sympathies 
of the people, but it Is one of the chief reasons why 
the English find it so hard or next to impossible to 
get servants of good caste. 

An acquaintance of mine In Ceylon who belongs 
to the Vellala caste told me that on one occasion he 
paid a visit to a friend of his in India who belonged 
to the same caste but a different section of it. They 
had a Brahman cook, who prepared the food for 
both of them, but who being of a higher caste could 
not eat a/lerihQm; while ^/ley could not eat together 
because they did not belong to the same section. 
The Brahman cook therefore ate /its dinner first, 
and then served up the remainder separately to the 
two friends, who sat at different tables with a curtain 
hanging between them! 

I myself knew of a case in which an elderly native 
gentleman was quite put to it, and had to engage an 
extra servant, because, though he had a man already 
who could cook and draw water for him to drink, 
this man was not of the right caste to fill his bath ! 
Can one wonder, when caste regulations have fallen 
into such pettiness, that the more advanced spirits 
hail with acclaim any new movement which promises 
deliverance from the bondage ? 

Another curious element in the corruption of caste 
is the growth of the tyranny of respectability. 
Among certain sections — mainly I imagine the mer- 
chant and trading castes — some of the members 
becoming rich form themselves Into little coteries 
which take to themselves the government of the 
caste, and while not altogether denying their com- 



THE OLD ORDER I CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 333 

munal fellowship with, do not also altogether conceal 
their contempt for, the poorer members, and the 
divergence of their own interests and standards from 
those of the masses. Of course with this high-flying 
respectability goes very often (as with us) a phari- 
saical observance of religious ordinances, and a good 
deal of so-called philanthropy. 

I have before me a little book called " The Story 
of a Widow Re-marriage," written by a member of 
the Bunya caste, and printed (for private circulation) 
at Bombay in 1890. The author of this book some 
years ago married — in defiance of all the proprieties 
of high-caste Hinduism — a lady who was already 
a widow ; and he tells the story of this simple act 
and the consequent caste-persecution which he had 
to endure in a style so genuine and at once naive 
and shrewd that the book is really most interesting. 
The poor girl whom he married had lost her hus- 
band some years before : he in fact was a mere boy 
and she a child at the time of his death. Now she 
was an " unlucky woman," a widow — one of those 
destined to spend all her life under a ban, to wear 
black, to keep away from any festivity lest she 
should mar it by her presence. *' What happiness 
in the world have I," said she, when the author at 
their first meeting condoled with her on her fate ; 
'' nothing but death can relieve me of all my woes. 
I have abjured food for the last twelve months ; I 
live only on a pice-worth of curd from day to day. 
I starve myself, in order that any how my end may 
come as soon as possible. I have often thought," 
she continued, '' of committing suicide by drowning 
myself in the sea or in the neighboring tank of 



334 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

Walkeshwar, or by taking opium. But there are 
many considerations which hold me back. Accord- 
ing to our Brahmans the Shastras say that those 
who commit suicide are doomed to die a similar 
death seven times over in their future existence. 
Moreover I myself believe that taking one's own 
life is as sinful as taking the life of any other person. 
This gives me pause, and I do not do what I would 
do. I have however forsaken all food, in order 
that the happy deliverance may come to me In a 
short time. I have nothing in this life to live for. 
If I had a child of my own, I would have had some 
cause for hope." 

Moved by the sufferings of the unhappy 
Dhunkore, as well as by her youth and beauty, 
Madhowdas fell genuinely In love with her ; and 
she, in return, with him ; and ere long they deter- 
mined — notwithstanding the relentless persecution 
of the more influential members of the caste, which 
they knew would follow — to get married. Mad- 
howdas was in business, and there was the utmost 
danger that he would be boycotted and ruined. To 
Dhunkore her chief trouble was the thought of the 
grief this step would occasion to her mother (with 
whom she lived). She might be Intimate with 
Madhowdas "under the rose" — that would be venial; 
she might If there were any serious consequences 
go a " pilgrimage," as so many widows do, to some 
quiet place where a delivery would not attract atten- 
tion ; but to be publicly married — that could never be 
forgiven. Not only her wealthy relations, but even 
her mother, would never see her again. So inexcus- 
able would be the act, so dire its consequences. 



THE OLD ORDER I CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 335 

Nevertheless the pair decided to go through with 
it. With the utmost secrecy they made their pre- 
parations, knowing well that if any rumors got 
abroad the arrangements would likely be interfered 
with by mercenary violence ; the young woman 
might even be kidnapped — as had happened in a 
similar case before. Only sympathisers and a few 
witnesses were invited to the actual ceremony, which 
however was safely performed — partly owing to the 
presence of a European officer and a body of police! 
The next morning the Times of India, the Gazette, 
and other Bombay papers were out with an account 
of the widow re-marriage, and the native city was 
convulsed with excitement — the community being 
immediately divided (though very unequally) into 
two hostile camps over their views of it. 

The mother's alarm at the mysterious disappear- 
ance of Dhunkore was only partly allayed when she 
found amonpf her dauo^hter 's trinkets a little note : 
" Be it known to my dear mother that not being 
able to bear the cruel pangs of widowhood, I forsook 
all kinds of food, and ate only a piece of curd every 
day. The consequence was that I became very 
weak, but did not die, as I hoped. . . . My dear 
mother, it is not at all likely that we shall meet 
again hereafter. You may therefore take me for 
dead. But I shall be very happy if I ever hear 
from the lips of any one that you are all doing well. 
I have not done this thing at the instigation of any 
one, but have resolved upon it of my own free 
will ; so you will not blame anybody for it. I have 
taken away nothing from your house, and you will 
kindly see for yourself that your property is quite 



336 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

safe. . . ." And the alarm was changed into 
dismay when the news came of what had really 
happened. A meeting of wealthy relations and 
influential members of the caste was called ; every- 
thing was done to damage the credit and ruin the 
business of Madhowdas ; and finally he and his 
wife were solemnly excommunicated ! 

The pair however struggled on, contending 
against many difficulties and trials, and supported by 
a few friends, both among their own caste and the 
resident English, for some years. Though crippled, 
their worldly prospects were not ruined. Gradually 
Madhowdas established himself and his business, 
drew round him a small circle of the more advanced 
spirits, settled in a roomy house at Girgaon, and 
snapped his fingers at his enemies. Indeed his 
house became a centre of propaganda on the subject 
of widows' wrongs, and an asylum for other couples 
situated as he and his wife had been ; meetings, of 
both English and native speakers, were held there ; 
quite a number of marriages were celebrated there ; 
and it appears that the house, to confirm its mission, 
now goes by the name of '* Widow Re-marriage 
Hall!" 

But what I set out to note in telling this story was 
the curious way in which wealth asserts itself even 
in the caste system of India to form a tyranny of so- 
called respectability and of orthodoxy — dividing the 
caste, in some cases at any rate, into distinct parties 
not unlike those which exist in our society at home. 
'' The real opponents of widow re-marriage," says 
Madhowdas in his book, " are not generally the 
simple and poor members of a caste, but its Shetthias. 



THE OLD order: CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 337 

They pose before the public as the most en- 
lightened members of their caste. In their conver- 
sation with European or Parsi acquaintances they 
declare themselves to be ardent advocates of social 
reform, and they pretend to deplore the folly, the 
stupidity, and the ignorance of their caste-fellows. 
But as a matter of fact it is these same Shetthias, 
these leading citizens, these enlightened members of 
society, who are really the bitterest and most un- 
compromising enemies of social progress. 
Can the reformer turn to the educated classes for 
help ? I am grieved to say, yet the truth must be 
told, that their moral fibre is capable of a great deal 
of strengthening ; and as to their active faculties, 
they still lie perfectly dormant. They have indeed 
the intelligence to perceive social evils. But their 
moral indignation on the tyranny and barbarism of 
custom evaporates in words. ... A race of 
idle babblers these. They will speak brave words 
from the political platform about their country's 
wrongs and their countrymen's rights. But talk to 
them of something to be done, some little sacrifice 
to be made, they will shrink away, each one making 
his own excuse for his backsliding. . . . The 
world generally believes them ; and if they occasion- 
ally give a few thousand rupees towards some 
charity, their reputation for liberality and large- 
mindedness is confirmed still more, and their fame 
is trumpeted forth by newspapers as men of munifi- 
cence and enlightenment." 

It must not be thought however, because the 
caste- system is in many ways corrupt and effete, that 

z 



338 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

It is without Its better and more enduring features — 
even In the present day. Within the caste there Is 
a certain communal feeling, which draws or tends to 
draw all the members together, as forming a corpo- 
rate body for common ends and fellowship, and 
giving every member a claim on the rest In cases of 
distress or disability. Moreover a great many of 
the castes, being founded on hereditary occupation, 
form trade societies, having their own committees 
of management, and rules and regulations, fines, 
feasts and mutual benefit arrangements, almost 
quite similar to our old trade-guilds and modern 
unions. Thus there are the goldsmiths (a powerful 
caste which In South India, says Hunter, for cen- 
turies resisted the rule of the Brahmans, and claimed 
to be the religious teachers, and wore the sacred 
thread), the brass-workers, the weavers, the fishers, 
and scores of others — each divided Into numerous 
sub-sections. The caste-guild In these cases regu- 
lates wages, checks competition, and punishes delin- 
quents ; the decisions of the guild being enforced 
by fines, by causing the offender to entertain all 
his fellows at a feast, and by other sanctions. The 
o-ulld itself derives its funds not only from fines, but 
also from entrance fees paid by those beginning to 
practise the craft, and from other sources. In any 
case whether trade-guild or not, the caste — while it 
assures its members against starvation — exercises 
a continual surveillance over them, as we have seen 
in the case of Madhowdas — extending to excommuni- 
cation and even expulsion. Excommunication being 
of three kinds : (i) from eating with other members 
of the caste, (2) from marriage with them, and (3) 



THE OLD ORDER I CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 339 

from use of the local barber, washerman, and priest. 
Expulsion is rare ; and it is said that it seldom takes 
place unless the offender is a real bad lot. 

As an instance of trade-unionism in caste, 
Hunter mentions the case of the bricklayers at 
Ahmedabad in 1873. Some of the bricklayers were 
working overtime, and thus were getting a few pence 
a day extra, while at the same time others of them 
were unemployed. The guild therefore held a 
meeting, and decided to forbid the overtime — the 
result of which was that employment was found for 
all. 

When I was at Kurunegala in Ceylon, an 
amusing dispute took place between the barber 
caste and the Brahmans of the locality. The 
barbers — though a very necessary element of Hindu 
society, as shaving is looked upon as a very impor- 
tant, almost religious, function, and is practised in a 
vast variety of forms by the different sections — are 
still somewhat despised as a low caste ; and it 
appeared that the Brahmans of the place had given 
offence to them by refusing to enter the barbers' 
houses in order to perform certain religious cere- 
monies and purifications — the Brahmans no doubt 
being afraid of contaminating themselves thereby. 
Thereupon the barbers held a caste meeting, and 
decided to boycott the Brahmans by refusing to 
shave them. This was a blow to the latter, as 
without being properly scraped they could not per- 
form their ceremonies, and to have to shave them- 
selves would be an unheard-of indignity. They 
therefore held a meeting, the result of which was 
that they managed to get a barber from a distant 



340 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

place — a kind of blackleg — who probably belonged 
to some other section of the barber community — to 
come over and do their scraping for them. Things 
went on merrily thus for a while, and the blackleg 
no doubt had good times, when^in consequence of 
another barbers' meeting— he was one day spirited 
away, and disappeared for good, being seen no more. 
The barbers also, in defiance of the Brahmans, 
appointed a priest from among their own body to 
do their own religious choring for them — and the 
Brahmans were routed all along the line. What 
steps were taken after this I do not know, as about 
that time I left the place. 

When at Bombay I had another instance of how 
the caste-guild acts as a trade-union, and to check 
competition among its members. I was wanting to 
buy some specimens of brass-work, and walking 
down a street where I knew there were a number of 
brass- workers' shops, was surprised to find them all 
closed. I then proposed to my companion, who was 
a Hindu, that we should go to another street where 
there were also brass-workers' shops ; but he said 
it w^ould be no good, as he believed this was a half- 
holiday of the brass- workers' caste. " But," I said, 
" if it is a half-holiday, there may yet be some who 
will keep their shops open in order to get the cus- 
tom." " Oh, no," he replied with a smile at my 
ignorance, '* they would not do that ; it would be 
against all caste rules." 

Thus we see that the caste-system contains 
valuable social elements, and ancient as it is may 
even teach us a lesson or two in regard to the 
organization of trades. 



THE OLD ORDER I CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 34 1 

When we come to the other great feature of 
Indian social life, Communism, we find it existing 
under three great forms — agricultural, caste, and 
family communism. Of the first of these — agricul- 
tural communism — I know personally but little, 
having had no opportunity of really studying the 
agricultural life. The conditions of village tenure 
vary largely all over India, but apparently in every 
part there may be traced more or less distinctly the 
custom of holding lands in common, as in the 
primitive village life of Germany and England. In 
most Indian villages there are still extensive out- 
lying lands which are looked upon as the property 
of the community ; and of the inlying and more 
settled lands, their cultivation, inheritance, etc., are 
largely ruled by common custom and authority. 
Maine, however, points out in his Village Commu- 
nities that the sense of individual property, derived 
from contact with the West, is even now rapidly 
obliterating these ancient customs of joint tenure. 

Of the second, the caste communism, I have 
already spoken. It no doubt is less strongly 
marked than it was ; but still exists, not certainly as 
an absolute community of goods, but as a community 
of feeling and interest, and some degree of mutual 
assistance among the members of the caste. The 
third is the family communism ; and this is still 
pretty strongly marked, though the first beginnings 
of its disintegration are now appearing. 

In speaking of the Family it must be understood 
that a much larger unit is meant than we should 
denote by the term — comparatively distant relations 
being included ; and there seems to be a tacit 



342 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

understanding that the members of this larger 
Family or Clan have a claim on each other, so that 
any one in need can fairly expect support and 
assistance from the others, and without feeling 
humiliated by receiving it. This has its good side 
— in the extended family life and large-hearted ness 
that it produces, as well as in its tendency to keep 
wealth distributed and to prevent people playing 
too much for their own hands ; but it has its draw- 
backs, chiefly in the opportunity it affords to idle 
'' ne'er-do-weels" to sponge upon their friends. 

I have mentioned the case (p. 90) of a young 
man who came to read English with me in Ceylon, 
and who, though married and having children, 
turned out to be living with and dependent on his 
parents. I must not speak of this as a case of a 
ne'er-do-weel, as the fellow was genuinely interested 
in literature, and was in the habit of giving lectures 
on philosophy in his native place — and if one began 
calling such people names, one might not know 
where to stop ; but to our Western notions it was a 
curious arrangement. Certainly a Bengali gentle- 
man whom I met one day complained to me very 
bitterly of the system. He said that he was in an 
official position and receiving a moderate salary, and 
the consequence was that his relatives all considered 
him a fair prey. He not only had his own wife and 
children, and his father and mother, to support — of 
which he would not make a grievance ; but he had 
two or three younger brothers, who though of age 
had not yet found anything to do, and were calmly 
living on at his cost ; and besides these there were 
two aunts of his, who had both married one man. 



THE OLD ORDER : CASTE AND COMMUNISM. 343 

The husband of the aunts had died leaving one of 
them with children, and now he, the complainant, 
was expected to provide for both aunts and children, 
besides the rest of his family already mentioned ! 
To a man once bitten w^ith the idea of ''getting on " 
in the Western sense of the word, one can imagine 
how galling it must be to have indefinite strings of 
relations clinging around one's neck ; and one can 
guess how forcibly the competitive idea is already 
beginning to act towards the disruption of family 
communism. 

In Calcutta and other places I noticed consider- 
able numbers of grown youths loafing about with 
nothing to do, and apparently with no particular 
intention of doing anything as long as their friends 
would support them. And this no doubt is a 
great evil, but I think it would be hardly fair 
to lay it all at the door of the family communal 
habits. It is rather to the contact of the old 
communal life with the new order of things, and 
to the dislocation of the former which ensues, that 
we must attribute the evil. For under the old order 
a youth growing up would no doubt, by the obliga- 
tions of his caste, religion, etc., have his duties and 
calling so distinctly set out for him, that the danger 
of his giving himself up to idleness and Infringing on 
the hospitality of his family would seldom arise ; but 
now the commercial and competitive regime, while 
loosening his old caste and religious sanctions, often 
leaves him quite unprovided with any opening in 
life — Indeed forbids him an opening except at the 
cost of a struggle with his fellows — and so tempts 
him to relapse Into a state of dependence. 



344 FROM ADAM S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

The closeness of the family tie still subsisting is, 
when all is said, a beautiful thing. The utmost 
respect is accorded to parents ; and to strike a father 
or mother is (as I think I have already remarked) 
an almost unheard-of crime. I was much impressed 
in talking to Justice Telang at Bombay by the 
way in which he spoke of his parents. I had asked 
him whether he intended coming over to England 
for the National Congress — to be held in London in 
1893 — and his reply was that he should like to, but 
his parents " would not let him " (no doubt on 
account of the loss of caste in crossing the sea). 
This from a man of forty, and one of the leading 
Mahrattas, indeed one of the most influential politi- 
cians in Bombay, was sufficiently striking ; but it 
was said with a tenderness that made one feel that 
he would forego almost anything rather than wound 
those of whom he spoke. 

Thus as in the social progress of the West the 
sword descending divides, with often painful 
estrangement, brother from sister, and child from 
parent ; so is it also in the East. Only that in the 
East the closeness of the parental tie makes the 
estrangement more odious and more painful, and 
adds proportionately to the obstacles which lie in 
the path of progress. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE NEW INFLUENCES I 
WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 

The first objects that I saw in India — Indeed I saw 
them while still well out at sea — were a lighthouse 
and a factory chimney ! This was at Tuticorin, a 
little place in the extreme south ; but afterwards I 
found that these objects represented remarkably 
well the vast spread of Western influences all over 
the country, in their two great main forms, science 
and commercialism. 

I had no idea, until I landed, how Western ideas 
and education have of late years overrun the cities 
and towns, even down to the small towns, of India ; 
but I was destined to be speedily enlightened on 
this subject. Having a few hours to spare at 
Tuticorin, I was walking up and down by the sad 
sea- waves when I noticed a youth of about seven- 
teen reading a book. Glancing over his shoulder, 
to my surprise I saw it was our old friend '' Tod- 
hunter's Euclid." The youth looked like any other 
son of the people, undistinguished for wealth or rank 
— for in this country there is no great distinction in 
dress between rich and poor — simply clad in his cot- 
ton or muslin wrap, with bare head and bare feet ; and 
naturally I remonstrated with him on his conduct. 

345 



34^ FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

" O yes," he said In English, " I am reading 
Eudid — I belong to Bishop Caldwell's College." — 
"Bishop Caldwell's College ? "— " Yes," he said, '' it 
is a large college here, with 200 boys, from ages of 
13 or 14 up to 23 or 24." — " Indeed, and what do 
you read ? " — " Oh, we read Algebra and Euclid," 
he replied enthusiastically, " and English History 
and Natural Science and Mill's Political Economy, 
and " (but here his voice fell a semitone) " we learn 
two chapters of the Bible by heart every day." By 
this time other boys had come up, and I soon found 
myself the centre of a small crowd, and conversing 
to them about England, and Its well-known scholars 
and politicians, and a variety of things about which 
they asked eager questions. '' Comie and see the 
college," at last they said, seeing I was interested ; and 
so we adjourned — a troop of about fifty — Into a court- 
yard containing various school-buildings. There did 
not seem to be any masters about, and after show- 
ing me some of the class-rooms, which were fitted 
up much like English class-rooms, they took me 
to the dormitory. The dormitory was a spacious 
room or hall, large enough I daresay to accommodate 
most of the scholars, but to my surprise It contained 
not a single bit of furniture — not a bed or a chair or 
a table, far less a washstand ; only round the wall 
on the floor were the boys' boxes — -mostly small 
enough — and grass mats which, unrolled at night, 
they used for sleeping on. This (combined with 
J. S. Mill) was plain living and high thinking 
Indeed. Seeing my look of mingled amusement 
and surprise, they said with a chuckle, " Come and 
see the dining- hall " — and lo ! another room of 



i 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 347 

about the same size — this time with nothing in it, 
except plates distributed at equal distances about 
the floor ! The meal hour was just approaching, 
and the boys squatting down with crossed feet 
took each a plate upon his lap, while serving-men 
going round with huge bowls of curry and rice 
supplied them with food, which they ate with their 
fingers. 

It certainly impressed me a good deal to find a 
high level of Western education going on, and 
among boys, many of them evidently from their 
conversation intelligent enough, under such ex- 
tremely simple conditions, and in so unimportant 
a place as Tuticorin might appear. But I soon 
found that similar institutions — not all fortunately 
involving two chapters of the Bible every day, and 
not all quite so simple in their interior instalments — 
existed all over the land. Not only are there 
universities at Madras, Calcutta and Bombay, grant- 
ing degrees on a broad foundation of Western learn- 
ing, and affiliated to Oxford and Cambridge in such 
a way that the student, having taken his B.A. at 
either of the Indian universities, can now take a 
further degree at either of the English ones after 
two years' residence only ; but there are important 
colleges and high schools in all the principal towns ; 
and a graduated network of instruction down to the 
native village schools all over the land. Besides 
these there are medical colleo^es, such as the Grant 
Medical College at Bombay ; women's colleges, 
like the Bethune College at Calcutta, which has 
fifty or sixty women students, and which passed six 
women graduates in the Calcutta university exami- 



34^ FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

nations in 1890; and other institutions. In most 
cases the principals of these higher institutions are 
EngHsh, but the staff is largely native. 

And as a part of Western education I suppose 
one may include our games and sports, which are 
rapidly coming into use and supplanting, in popu- 
lous centres, the native exercises. It is a curious 
and unexpected sight to see troops of dark-skinned 
and barefooted lads and men playing cricket — but 
it is a sight one may meet with in any of the towns 
now-a-days in the cooler weather. At Bombay the 
maidans are simply crowded at times with cricketers 
— Parsee clubs, Hindu clubs, Eurasians, English — I 
reckoned I could count a score of pitches one day 
from the place where I was sitting. The same at 
Calcutta. The same at Nagpore, with golf going on 
as well. Yet one cannot help noticing the separa- 
tion of the different sections of the population, even 
in their games — the English cricket-ground, the 
'* second-class " English ground, the Eurasian 
ground, the Hindu and Mahomedan — all distinct! 

The effect of this rush of Western ideas and 
education is of course what one might expect — and 
what I have already alluded to once or twice — 
namely, to discredit the old religion and the old 
caste-practices. As my friend the schoolmaster 
said at Calcutta, *' No one believes in all this now " ; 
by no one meaning no one who belongs to the new 
movement and has gone through the Western curri- 
culum — the *' young India." 

The question may be asked then, What does the 
young India believe in ? It has practically aban- 
doned the religion of its fathers, largely scoffs at it, 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 349 

does It accept Christianity in any form in its place ? 
I believe we may reply No. Christianity in its mis- 
sions and Its Salvation armies, though it may move 
a little among the masses, does not to any extent 
touch the advanced and educated sections. No, 
the latter read Mill, Spencer and Huxley, and they 
have quite naturally and in good faith adopted the 
philosophy of their teachers — the scientific material- 
ism which had its full vogue In England some 
twenty years ago, but which is now perhaps some- 
what on the wane. As one of these enthusiasts 
said to me one day, '^ We are all Agnostics now." 
With that extraordinary quickness and receptivity 
which is one of the great features of the Hindu 
mind, though beginning the study so much later 
in the day, they have absorbed the teachings of 
modern science and leapt to its conclusions almost 
as soon as we have In the West. That the move- 
ment will remain at this point seems to me in the 
highest degree unlikely. There may be a reaction 
back to the old standpoint, or, what is more hopeful, 
a forward effort to rehabilitate the profound teach- 
ino^s of their forefathers Into forms more suited to 
the times In which we live, and freed from the 
many absurdities which have gathered round the 
old tradition. 

The second great factor In modern India is the 
growth of Commercialism. This is very remarkable, 
and Is likely to be more so. Not only at Tutlcorin, 
but at a multitude of places are factory chimneys 
growing up. At Nagpore I saw a cotton-mill 
employing hundreds of hands. At Bombay there 



350 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

are between thirty and forty large cotton-mills, there 
is a manufacturing quarter, and a small forest of 
chimneys belching forth their filth into the otherwise 
cloudless blue. 

I visited one of the largest of these mills (that 
of the United Spinning and Weaving Co.) with a 
friend who at one time had worked there. It was 
the counterpart of a Lancashire cotton-mill. There 
was the same great oblong building in three or four 
storeys, the same spinning jenny and other machin- 
ery (all of course brought out from England, and 
including a splendid high-pressure condensing 
engine of 2,000 H.P.), the same wicked roar and 
scream of wheels, and the same sickening hurry and 
scramble. But how strange to see the poor thin 
oysters working under the old familiar conditions of 
dirt and unhealth — their dark skins looking darker 
with grease and dust, their passive faces more 
passive than ever — to see scores of Hindu girls 
with huge ear-rings and nose-rings threading their 
way among the machinery, looking so small, com- 
pared with our women, and so abstracted and dreamy 
that it hardly seemed safe. And here a little naked 
boy about 10 years of age, minding a spinning 
jenny and taking up the broken threads, as clever 
and as deft as can be. Fortunately the Hindu 
mind takes things easier than the English, and 
refuses to be pressed ; for the hours are shamefully 
long and there is but little respite from toil. 

There is no doubt that great fortunes have been 
and are being made in this cotton business. It can 
hardly be otherwise, for as long as Manchester is in 
the market the goods of Bombay are in a line as to 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 35 I 

price with the products of EngHsh manufacture ; 
but they are produced at very much less cost. I 
suppose the average wage for adults in one of these 
mills is not more than 8^. a day (if so much), and 
the difference between this and 2s. Sd. a day say 
as in England, gives 2s. per diem saved on each 
employee. In the mill that I visited there are i,ioo 
hands — say i,ooo adults ; that gives a saving of 
1,000x2 shillings, or ^100, a day; or ^30,000 a 
year. Against this must be set the increased price 
of coal, which they get all the way from England 
(the coal of the country being inferior) at Rs. i 5 to 
17 per ton — say 25 tons a day at 20^. added cost to 
what it would be in England — i.e., £2^ a day, or 
^7,500 a year. Then it is clear that despite this 
and some other drawbacks, the balance in favor 
of production in India is very great; and the divi- 
dends of the cotton-mills at Bombay certainly show 
it, for they run at 20, 25, 50 and even 80 per 
cent., with very few below 20. 

It is clear that such profits as these are likely to 
draw capital out to India in rapidly increasing 
degree, and we may expect a vast development of 
manufacturing industry there during the next 
decade or two. The country — or at any rate the 
town-centres — will be largely commercialised. And 
as far as the people themselves are concerned, 
though the life in mills is wretched enough, still it 
offers a specious change from the dull round of 
peasant labor, and something like a secure wage 
(if only a pittance) to a man who in his native 
village would hardly see the glint of coin from one 
year's end to another ; the bustle and stir of the 



352 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

town too is an attraction ; and so some of the same 
causes which have already in England brought 
about the depletion of the land in favor of the con- 
gestion of the cities, are beginning to work in India. 
Then beside the manual employment which our 
commercial institutions provide there are innumer- 
able trading posts and clerkships, connected with 
merchants' houses, banks, railways, post-ofhces, and 
all manner of public works, all of w^hich practically 
are filled by natives ; and some of which, with the 
moderate salaries attached, are eagerly sought after. 
One hardly realises till one sees it, how completely 
these great organizations are carried on — except for 
perhaps one or tw^o Englishmen at the head — by 
native labor; but when one does see this one 
realises also how important a part of the whole 
population this section — which is thus ministering 
to and extending the bounds of modern life — is 
becoming. And this section again is supplemented 
by at least an equally numerous section v/hich, if 
not already employed in the same way, is desirous 
of becoming so. And of course among both these 
sections Western ideals and standards flourish ; 
competition is gradually coming to be looked on 
as a natural law of society ; and Caste and the 
old Family system are more or less rapidly dis- 
integrating. 

Such changes as these are naturally important, 
and indeed in an old and conservative country like 
India strike one as very remarkable — but they are 
made even more important by the political com- 
plexion they have of late years assumed. In the 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 353 

National Indian Congress we see that not only the 
outer forms of life and thought, but the political and 
social ideas which belong to the same stage of 
historical development, have migrated from West 
to East. The people — or at least those sections of 
it of which we are speaking — are infected not only 
with Darwin and Huxley, but with a belief in the 
ballot, in parliaments and town-councils, and in 
constitutionalism and representative government 
generally. The N. I. C. brings together from 
1,000 to 1,500 delegates annually from all parts 
of India, representing a variety of different races 
and sections, and elected in many of the larger 
towns with the utmost enthusiasm; and this by itself 
is a striking fact — a fact quite comparable in its way 
with the meetinofs of the Labor Conofresses in late 
years in the capitals of Europe. Its conferences 
have been mostly devoted to such political questions 
as the application of the elective principle to muni- 
cipal and imperial councils, and to such social 
questions as that of child - marriage ; and these 
subjects and the speeches concerning them are 
again reviewed and reported by a great number 
of newspapers printed both in English and the 
vernacular tongues, and having a large circulation. 
Certainly it is probable that the Congresses will not 
immediately lead to any very striking results — indeed 
it is hard to see how they could do so ; but the fact 
of the existence of the N. I. C. movement alone is a 
pregnant one, and backed as it is by economical 
changes, it is not likely — though it may change its 
form — to evaporate into mere nothingness. 

In fact— despite the efforts of certain parties to 

A A 



354 FROM ADAMS PEAK TO ELEPHANTA. 

minimise it — it seems to me evident that we are 
face to face with an important social movement in 
India. What the upshot of it may be no one 
probably can tell — it may subside again in time, or 
it may gather volume and force towards some 
definite issue ; but it certainly cannot be ignored. 
The Pagetts, M.P., may be ponderously superficial 
about it, but the Kiplings merry are at least equally 
far from the truth. Of course in actual numerical 
strength as compared with the whole population 
the party may be small ; but then, as in other such 
movements, since it is just the most active and 
energetic folk who join them, their import cannot 
be measured by mere numbers. It is useless again 
to say that because the movement is not acknow- 
ledged by the peasants, or by the religious folk, or 
because it is regarded with a jealous eye by certain 
sections, that therefore it is of no account ; because 
similar things are always said and always have been 
said of every new social effort — in its inception — 
however popular or influential it may afterwards 
become. 

The question which is most interesting at this 
juncture to any one who recognises that there really 
is something like a change of attitude taking place 
in the Indian peoples, is : How do the Anglo- 
Indians regard this change ? and my answer to this — 
though given with diffidence — since it is a large 
generalisation and there may be, certainly are, many 
exceptions to it — is : I believe that taken as a 
whole the Anglos look upon it with a mingled 
sentiment of Fear and Dislike. I think they look 
upon the movement with a certain amount of Fear — 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 355 

perhaps not unnaturally. The remembrance of the 
Mutiny of '57 is before them ; they feel themselves 
to be a mere handful among millions. And I am 
sure they look upon it with Dislike, for as said 
above there is no real touch, no real sympathy, 
between them and the native races. However it 
may be for the liberalising Englishman at home to 
indulge in a sentimental sympathy with the aspiring 
oyster, the Britisher in India feels that the relation 
is only tolerable as long as there is a fixed and 
impassable distinction between the ruler and the 
ruled. Take that away, let the two races come into 
actual contact on an equality, and . . . but the 
thought is not to be endured. 

And this feeling of race-dislike is I think— as I 
have hinted in an earlier chapter — enhanced by the 
fact that the Britisher in India is a "class" man in 
his social feeling. I have several times had occa- 
sion to think that the bulk-people of the two coun- 
tries — though by no means agreeing with each 
other — would, if intercourse were at all possible, 
get on better together than the actual parties do at 
present. The evils of a commercial class-govern- 
ment which we are beginning to realise so acutely 
at hom^e — the want of touch between the rulers and 
the ruled, the testing of all politics by the touchstone 
of commercial profits and dividends, the consequent 
enrichment of the few at the expense of the many, 
the growth of slum and factory life, and the im- 
poverishment of the peasant and the farmer, are 
curiously paralleled by what is taking place in India ; 
and in many respects it is becoming necessary to 
realise that some of our difficulties in India are not 



356 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

merely such as belong to the country itself, but are 
part and parcel of the same problem which is begin- 
ning- to vex us at home — the social problem, namely. 
The same narrowness of social creed, the entire 
decadence of the old standards of gentle birth 
without their replacement by any new ideal, worthy 
to be so called, the same trumpery earmarks of 
society-connection, etc., distinguish the ruling classes 
in one country as in the other ; and in both are the 
signals of coming change. 

At the same time it would be absurd to assume 
that the native of India is free from serious defects 
which make the problem, to the Anglo-Indian, ever 
so much more difficult of solution. And of these 
probably the tendency to evasion, deceit, and under- 
hand dealing is the- most serious. The Hindu 
especially with his subtle mind and passive character 
is thus unreliable ; it is difficult to find a man who 
will stick with absolute fidelity to his word, or of 
whom you can be certain that his ostensible object 
is his real one ; and naturally this sort of thing 
creates estrangement. 

To my mind this social gulf existing between the 
rulers and the ruled is the most pregnant fact of 
our presence in India — the one that calls most for 
attention, and that looms biggest with consequences 
for the future. Misunderstandings of all kinds flow 
from it. " When this want of intercourse," says 
Beck in his Essays on Indian Topics, " between the 
communities or a reasonable number of people of 
each, is fixed on my attention, I often feel with a 
sinking of the heart that the end of the British 
Indian Empire is not far distant." 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 357 

I have already pointed out (p. 276) how clear it 
is by the example of Aligarh that friendly inter- 
course is possible between the two sections — though 
we have allowed that it is difficult to bring about. 
Mr. Beck corroborates this in his Essays by strong 
expressions. He says (p. 89), '' An Englishman 
would probably be dubbed a lunatic if he confessed 
that the only thing which made life tolerable in his 
Indian exile was the culture, the interest, and the 
affection he found in native society. Such an 
Englishman will therefore at most hint at his con- 
dition " ; and again — *' As one whose circumstances 
have compelled him to see more of the people of 
India than the average Englishman, I can only say 
that the effort repays itself, and that, incredible 
though it may appear, all degrees of friendship are 
possible between the Anglo-Indian and his Eastern 
fellow-subject." And further on, after urging the 
importance, the vast importance, of cultivating this 
intercourse, and so attempting to bridge the fatal 
gulf, he says : — '* To know the people, and to be so 
trusted by them that they will open out to us the 
inmost recesses of their hearts ; to see them daily ; 
to come to love them as those who have in their 
nature but an average share of affection cannot help 
loving them when they know them well — this is our 
ideal for the Indian civilian. Some Englishmen act 
up to this ideal : in the early days of our rule 
several did. If it become the normal thing the 
Indian Empire will be built upon a rock so that 
nothing can shake it. Agitation and sedition will 
vanish as ugly shadows. Had it existed in 1857 
the crash would not have come." 



358 FROM ADAiM's peak TO ELEPHANT A. 

The writer of the above paragraphs thinks no- 
thing of the N. I. C. movement, or rather I should 
say thinks unfavorably of it ; but of the import- 
ance of bridging the social gulf he cannot say 
enough — and in this latter point, as far as I feel 
competent to form an opinion at all, I entirely agree 
with him. But will it ever be bridged ? Unfortu- 
nately the few who share such sentiments as those 
I have quoted are very few and far between — and 
of those the greater number must as I have already 
explained be tied and bound in the chains of official- 
dom. ''The Anglo-Indian world up to the hour 
when the great tragedy of '57 burst upon them was 
busily amusing itself as best it can in this country 
with social nothings " — and how is it amusing itself 
now ? The most damning fact that I know against 
the average English attitude towards the natives, is 
the fact that one of the very few places besides 
Aligarh, w^here there is any cordial feeling between 
the two parties. Is Hyderabad — a place in which, on 
account of its being under the Nizam, the officials 
are natives, and their position therefore prevents 
their being trampled on ! 

If the Congress movement is destined to become 
a great political movement, it must it seems to me 
eventuate in one of two ways — either in violence 
and civil war, owing to determined hostility on the 
part of our Government and the continual widening 
of the breach between the two peoples ; or, — which 
Is more likely — if our Government grants more and 
more representative power to the people — in the 
Immense growth of political and constitutional life 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 359 

among them, and the gradual drowning out of 
British rule thereby. There is a third possibility — 
namely the withdrawal of our government, owing to 
troubles and changes at home. Either of these 
alternatives would only be the beginning of long 
other vistas of change, which we need not attempt 
to discuss. They all involve the decadence of our 
political power in India, and certainly, situated as we 
are — unable to really inhabit the country and adapt 
ourselves to the climate, and with growing social 
forces around us — I can neither see nor imagine any 
other conclusion. 

The Congress movement being founded on the 
economical causes — the growth of commercialism, 
etc. — it is hard to believe that it will not go on and 
spread. Certainly it may alter its name and pro- 
gramme ; but granted that commercialism is going 
to establish itself, it is surely impossible to imagine 
it will do so, among so acute and subtle a people as 
the Hindus, without bringing with it the particular 
forms of political life which go with it, and really 
belong to it. 

One of the most far-reaching and penetrating 
ways in which this Western movement is influencing 
India' is in its action on the sense oi property. The 
conception of property, as I have already pointed out 
once or twice, is gradually veering from the com- 
munistic to the highly individualistic. In all depart- 
ments, whether in the family or the township or 
the caste, the idea of joint possession or joint regu- 
lation of goods or land for common purposes is 
dying out in favor of separate and distinct holding 
for purely individual ends. It is well known what 



36o FROM adam's peak to elephanta. 

an immense revolution In the structure of society 
has taken place, in the history of various races and 
peoples, when this change of conception has set in. 
Nor is it likely that India will prove altogether an 
exception to the rule. For the change is going on 
not only — as might fairly be expected — in the great 
cities, where Western influence is directly felt, but 
even in the agricultural regions, where ever since 
the British occupation it has been slowly spreading, 
partly through the indirect action of British laws 
and land settlements, and partly through the gradual 
infiltration, in a variety of ways, of commercial and 
competitive modes of thought. 

Now no estimate of Indian affairs and movements 
can be said to be of value, which does not take 
account of the weight — one might say the dead 
weight— of its agricultural life : the 80 or 90 per 
cent, of the population who live secluded in small 
villages, in the most primitive fashion, with their 
village goddess and their Hindu temple — hardly 
knowing what government they live under, and appar- 
ently untouched from age to age by invention and 
what we call progress. Nor can the conservative 
force so represented be well exaggerated. But if 
even this agricultural mass is beginning to slide, we 
have indeed evidence that great forces are at work. 
If the village communities are going to break up, 
and the old bonds of rural society to dissolve, we 
may be destined to witness, as Henry Maine 
suggests, the recurrence of '' that terrible problem 
of pauperism which began to press on English 
statesmen as soon as the old English cultivating 
groups began distinctly to fall to pieces," "In 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 36 1 

India however," he says, " the solution will be far 
more difficult than it has proved here." 

All this assumes the continued spread and growth 
of the commercial ideal in India — which is a larg^e 
question, and wide in its bearings. Considering all 
the forces which tend now-a-days in that direction, 
and the apparent inevitableness of the thing as a 
phase of modern life at home, its growth in India 
for some years to come seems hardly doubtful. But 
it is a curious phenomenon. Anything more an- 
tagonistic to the genius of ancient India — ^the 
Wisdom-land — than this cheap- and-nasty, puffing 
profit-mongering, enterprising, energetic, individual- 
istic, " business," can hardly be imagined ; and the 
queer broil witnessed to-day in cities like Bombay 
and Calcutta only illustrates the incongruity. To 
Hindus of the old school, with their far-back spiri- 
tual ideal, a civilisation like ours, whose highest 
conception of life and religion is the General Post 
Office, is simply Anathe^na. I will quote a portion 
of a letter received from an Indian friend on the 
subject, which gives an idea of this point of view. 
Referring to the poverty of the people — 

" All this terrible destitution and suffering through- 
out one-seventh of the world's population has been 
brought about without any benefit to the English 
people themselves. It has only benefited the 
English capitalists and professional classes. The 
vaunted administrative capacity of the English is 
a fiction. They make good policemen and keep 
order, when the people acquiesce — that is all. If 
this acquiescence ceases, as it must, when the people 
rightly or wrongly believe their religion and family 

B B 



362 FROM Adam's peak to elephanta. 

life In danger from the government, the Enghsh 
must pack up and go, and woe to the EngHsh capital- 
ist and professional man ! I feel more and more 
strongly every day that the English with their 
commercial Ideals and standards and Institutions 
have done far more to ruin the country than If It 
had been overrun periodically by hordes of savage 
Tatars." 

That Commercialism Is bringing and will bring 
great evils In Its train, in India as elsewhere — the 
sapping of the more manly and martial virtues, 
the accentuation of greed and sophistry, the 
dominance of the money-lender — I do not doubt ; 
though I do not quite agree with the above denun- 
ciation. I think If the English have Infested and 
plagued poor India, It Is greatly the fault of the 
Indians themselves who In their passiveness and 
lethargy have allowed It to be so. And I think — 
taking perhaps on my side a too optimistic view — 
that this growing industrialism and mechanical 
civilisation may (for a time) do much good, in the 
way of rousing up the people, giving definition, so 
much needed, to their minds and work, and Instil- 
ling among them the Western Idea of progress, which 
In some ways fallacious has still its value and use. 

Only for a time however. We In England, now 
already witnessing the beginning of the end of the 
commercial regime, are becoming accustomed to the 
idea that It Is only a temporary phase ; and in India 
where, as I have said, the whole genius of the land 
and its traditions Is so adverse to such a system, and 
the weight of ancient custom so enormous, we can 
hardly expect that It will take such hold as here, or 



WESTERN SCIENCE AND COMMERCIALISM. 363 

run through quite so protracted a course of years. 
CommerciaHsm will no doubt greatly modify and 
simplify the caste system — but to the caste system in 
some purified form I am inclined to think the people 
will return ; it will do something also to free the 
women — give them back at least as much freedom 
as they had in early times and before the Maho- 
medan conquests, if not more ; and finally Western 
science will strongly and usefully criticise the preva- 
lent religious systems and practices, and give that 
definition and 7naterialism to the popular thought 
which is so sadly wanting in the India of to-day ; 
but the old underlying truths of Indian philosophy 
and tradition it will not touch. This extraordinary 
possession — containing the very germ of modern 
democracy — which has come all down the ages as 
the special heritage and mission of the Indian 
peoples, will remain as heretofore indestructible and 
unchanged, and will still form, we must think, the 
rallying point of Indian life ; but It is probable and 
indeed to be hoped that the criticism of Western 
thought, by clearing away a lot of rubbish, will 
help to make its outline and true nature clearer to 
the world. However there we must leave the 
matter. 



THE END. 



Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London. 



<^ 



OCT 16 1908 










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